


Sense of Danger

by kfloser



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Delia is sorta based off Kate Lamb and her actual daredevilish ways, F/F, Modern AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:18:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10071170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kfloser/pseuds/kfloser
Summary: "Where's your compassion, Nurse Mount?""Where's your sense of danger?"





	1. Chapter 1

The fragrance of coffee was always prominent in the Mount residence - some found it pungent, harsh, others found it familiar, and refreshing. Patsy was the latter. She always loved the smell, albeit strong, and sometimes bitter. She poured the dark liquid into a mug, watching the white base be overtaken by the dark brown liquid, her eyes bleary from only recently waking, many thanks to the ringing of her alarm. Her cerulean eyes glanced to the clock, reading the time, and calculating how long she had left before she was expected at the hospital, for her shift in A&E. The exhausted redhead muffled a yawn into the soft, pale skin of her forearm. “Morning,” a groggy, yet still sweet voice chimed out from behind her. Patsy nodded, and grumbled in return to the greeting. “What time are you expected in?” Patsy turned, facing her bleach blonde friend, who’d flopped down on the sofa. She checked the clock again, as if she hadn’t read it 40 seconds ago, half-heartedly hoping the hands had turned backwards, giving her more time. “I have… 30 minutes, oh joy,” the grumbling only continued as she replied to Trixie, who just grinned, and scrunched up her nose, hiding her snickers into a throw cushion. 

With disdain painted on her face, she pulled the powder blue top over her head, wishing she’d opted to sleep earlier last night - instead, she’d tossed and turned, thinking over things that were ultimately of no concern to her. Patsy often had issues sleeping; falling asleep was just so difficult when thoughts swam carelessly around your brain, preventing your eyes from closing for longer than the time it took to do up a shirt button. Discarding any reminders of her tiredness, she tied her hair up neatly into a ponytail, clipping her ID badge and watch to her pocket. “Right, I’ll see you later, Trixie!” Patsy called, slinging her bag over her shoulder, as she opened the front door to their shared flat. She heard a ‘goodbye’ yelled over the sounds of water streaming from the flower, and hitting the floor of the bath. As soon as she stepped into the corridor, the rigid wintry air assaulted her skin, her mouth opening slightly, the taste of toothpaste being made only stronger by the abrasive wind. 

Meanwhile, just across the city, Delia Busby was bounding up and down, baring striking similarities to a happy puppy. She jumped, flipped, tossed and turned, landing on her feet each time. The staff didn’t bat an eyelid - Delia had been there every week since it first opened. There was something about trampolines that the brunette just adored. Maybe it was the ability to jump so high she could touch the beams on the ceiling, or the fact she could do flips, and even if she landed wrong, there wasn’t solid concrete to injure her. She wasn’t the eldest member of the community there, either, so she never felt judged. When the on duty staff member turned their attentions to someone else, she’d leap from trampoline to trampoline, challenging herself to jump new distances, not caring if she fell. The brightly coloured crash mats underneath her would prevent any major injuries, like an inanimate security guard. Delia was always so animated when there was a risk of danger, from her experience, danger quite often meant fun. She poked her tongue out in concentration, as she bounded over to the trampoline to her left, with an air of expertise looming around her. 

It was also good exercise, of course. She wasn’t just in it for the enjoyment. She’d leap and bound until the ache in her legs became too much, until after every bounce, her legs threatened to give way underneath her, feeling like little more than twigs attached to her. She slid off the edge, a thin film of sweat covering her forehead. Delia made her way to the cafe next door, with it’s obnoxiously coloured chairs, and constant, lingering smell of freshly-baked cake. Her skin was so warm, her cheeks so heated, that she welcomed the brisk air, with open arms, and a small smile tugging on her lips. A small “fft” noise escaped her lips, as the heaters above the cafe door tickled her skin, adding more unnecessary heat to her body. Her weak feeling legs carried her towards the fridge, opening the doors and silently thanking the appliance for the gust of cold air that chilled her skin. Delia removed a bottle of water, approaching the counter and paying for it. As soon as she’d purchased it, she exited again, uncapping the plastic bottle and guzzling down the crisp liquid, with such vigour you’d assume she’d been stranded in a desert for weeks. 

”I’ll never stop being shocked at the amount of kids that jam Lego up their noses,” Patsy quipped, waving to the 4 year old boy who was currently exiting the waiting room. Barbara placed her pen back in her pocket, patting her friend on the back amiably, “I had a 7 year old with 3 pieces crammed up there yesterday - 3! He was 7,” Barbara shook her head, leaning against the wall, waiting for the forms to print. Patsy masked a smile with her hand, only to be nudged by her friend. “Right, I’d better go get these signed,” Barbara neatly attached the freshly printed forms to a clipboard, and wandered off, behind a hospital curtain. Patsy took a clipboard from the tray, and walked into the waiting room. With a friendly tone, she called the patient, who’s fingers were wrapped in a checked tea towel. 

”Right, well, you’re lucky enough to not need stitches!” Patsy beamed, wheeling her stool towards the bin, where she disposed of her used gloves. She propelled herself forward, towards the desk where she filled in the form with ease, signing the paper with her signature. “Next time, try not to cut a hole in plastic with a kitchen knife,” Patsy tipped her head to the right, she advised, only a glimmer of sarcasm present in her delivery. The patient nodded, thanked her, and left. The hours seemed only to protract on Mondays, dragging on excessively until 5 p.m. She was just grateful she wasn’t on the night shift, truthfully. That’s when all the inebriated people would come in, write down false information on their forms, and end up passing out on the examination bed, leaving a rather peeved nurse to try and find out their details, or call the police. Begrudgingly, Patsy walked back out to the waiting room, calling in somebody who looked to have burnt themselves on the nose. 

Artfully was one way to describe how Delia scaled the wall, her brain quickly calculating the best way up - which grips to take hold of, and which would leave her in a difficult situation. Her moves were always more deeply thought through when she didn’t have a harness on - they had to be, despite how deeply they were thought through, climbing walls like these were losing the challenging aspect they once held. However, if she lost hold of something, or her foot slipped, she’d plummet. She rarely ever fell - despite her puppy like features, and personality, Delia was often compared to a cat. She landed firmly on her feet, with a proud smirk on her lips, nine times out of ten. She looked down, watching as the instructors commanded the others. Delia was a climbing wall veteran, however. Delia reached the ceiling, her lips parted into an elated smile, as if she didn’t do this every week. She dinged the bell, releasing her grip. She let herself fall for a while, before quickly grabbing hold of the wall once more. Delia repeated the motions effortlessly until her feet touched down on the mattress. Onto the harder wall, just like every week, everything moving as always.

Regular workouts were just so… tedious. They didn’t elicit the same reaction bounding and climbing did, not to Delia. She didn’t feel the same sense of danger, the same familiar joy that she actively sought out. She did other things, of course. She’d sometimes train in a centre that was littered with poles she could lift herself over, and flip around. Parkour. Fencing. Occasional skiing. Anything that wasn’t seen as an average sport excited Delia Busby. 

Her feet and hands worked in seamless unison to carry her to the top of the wall, making her seem oh-so professional. She dinged the bell, which the instructors ignored, they were used to it, at this point. Adopting the same technique, eased herself down the wall. Delia silently thought of how simple rock climbing had become, how she needed to find something else - something that really got the blood in her body heated, something that made her heart hammer, and her smile stick to her lips. Something that resulted in her beaming from ear to ear, as if someone had stapled a sunbeam to her lips. It was simple, now. Rock climbing had become simple, required minimal thinking. Just as she thought how easy it had become, she felt her a sharp pain in her fingers, followed by an unpleasant snapping sound. Delia winced, restraining herself from yelling, so she didn’t draw attention to herself, and let go of the wall, letting the many mattresses welcome her back to the ground. They sprung her upwards, causing her to crash back down, her right hipbone smacking against the ground. “I’m fine, just slipped,” she reassured an instructor, who’d turned. She’d never visited the medical staff here, and Delia Busby would be damned if she had to now. 

Nursing came natural to the redhead, caring and compassion were always etched upon her tone, sincerity lingering in her smile. She handed a small chocolate to the child, alongside some spare dressings, and a half smile towards the mother, who’d fretted so that she’d done permanent damage to the child, who’d bashed his head on the stair gate. “He’ll be alright, don’t you worry. Nothing some CalPol won’t fix,” Patsy reassured the worried woman, who thanked her, and ushered the child out of the area. Barbara slipped through the gap in the curtain. “So, how’s the hunt going?” She enquired, making herself comfortable on the examination bed. Patsy huffed wearily, and shrugged her shoulders. “It can’t be that bad! There has to be one eligible, decent woman in Poplar!” Her kind friend reassured her, with a pat on the shoulder, and one of Barbara’s acclaimed smiles. “You’ll find someone,” her friend was unrelenting, “I actually know somebody, but I don’t think she’s your type. She’s a bit.. er.. wild. Anyway, back to work, Nurse Mount.” 

Patsy sipped her tea, leaning back in her chair, fatigue etched on her features, her eyes sore from lack of sleep, and unkind, bright lighting. She gingerly lifted the watch attached to her pocket, nervous to read the time, and find out how long she had. 11:30. Lunch hour had just begun. Patsy would take hers later, however. She huffed, misery noticeable in her tone. It was boring day. There were very few patients in the usually crowded waiting room, which meant a lot of lingering in hallways, and waiting for a chart to be placed in the metal wire tray. Barbara was preoccupied filling in forms - poor girl wasn’t the most efficient nurse that Patsy had ever met, but she was good at the practical side of her job, and she cared a lot. Both of them hated working in the A&E unit, but it was a necessity, much like paperwork. 

Delia held her phone to her ear with her other hand, trying feebly to ignore her throbbing fingers. “Just calm down! I think they’re just broken, it’s fine!” She tried to talk over her ranting friend, who just exhaled into her phone, followed by the stern words of “Go to A&E.” To which Delia replied, evidently one step ahead of her friend “I’m just outside the hospital, I just wanted to let you know so you didn’t panic when I come back with bandaged fingers. I’ll see ya later, Val.” Delia hung up the phone, slipping it into her pocket. Delia entered through the automatic doors. The aroma of cleaning product and air freshener instantly hit her face, but she didn’t mind it. Hospitals were familiar to Delia. With her hand held limply, she approached the desk. The receptionist smiled, and handed her a form attached to a battered clipboard. Delia sat on the seat nearest to the desk, filling in the basic details; name, age, GP, next of kin, injury. With a soft sigh, countered by a polite smile, she handed her form back to the receptionist, who slipped it in a tray. 

Delia tried to focus on absolutely anything that wasn’t the vexatious pang in her fingers, on her left hand. She chewed on her bottom lip, anxious to be called into the room by anyone. It seemed desolate- chairs empty, and hallways clear of traffic. Maybe it was just the time, but the hospital seemed so vacant. Delia tried to focus on the lingering taste of mint chewing gum in her mouth, or the posters warning the readers about multiple contagious diseases that loomed in the air they breathed. “Delia Busby?” An articulate voice called, and Delia turned instantly. She laid eyes on a tall, red-headed nurse, who’s lips were curved into one of the most eye-catching smiles Delia had ever seen. Her own lips parted into a gentle grin. She stood, brushing her Oxford University hoodie off, and approaching the nurse. 

Patsy had snatched the chart as soon as it had been placed in the holder, not caring to read it until she approached the large double doors. “Hello, if you’d like to follow me,” Patsy took a second longer than originally intended to survey the girl, who was cradling her left hand with her right. The injury was evident - broken fingers, made more noticeable by the purple and blue bruising that tinged the girls skin, like watercolour paint on a canvas. “It’d be my pleasure,” the brunette commented, not realising how absurdly creepy her words sounded to Patsy. She pushed the obnoxiously patterned curtain back, gesturing for Delia to enter the sectioned off area. Once they were both seated, Patsy took a second to properly admire the others face. All she could deduce was that the girl in front of her looked like a personified flower. 

”So, it’s evident what the issue is, mind if I ask how you broke them?” Patsy enquired, an amused smile toying on her lips. Delia let out a small, hesitant chuckle, before clearing her throat.  
”Well, um. I was rock climbing, and, instead of actually climbing down, I like to sort of… hang, then drop, then hang again. But, my fingers slipped and made a horrible noise the second time I dropped down, and I fell,” Delia explained, using hand motions to display the way she’d drop, and cling on. “I also bashed my hip a bit, there were mattresses, but turns out they do absolutely nothing but bounce you,” she finished, raising her eyebrows at the last segment of her explanation. “You could try not to look so amused!” Delia quipped, her annoyed words forsaken by the smirk on her chapped lips.  
”Sorry, sorry! I just - why couldn’t you just climb down?” Patsy challenged, now intrigued.  
”I don’t know! I’m a cool kid, I suppose,” the Welsh girl retorted, with a suave wink.  
”Mhm, so cool, what with your broken fingers.” Patsy retrieved a cotton pad, and bandages from a drawer. “I’ll take a look at your hip once I’ve sorted your fingers out, daredevil,” the nurse reached for Delia’s hand, holding it lightly in her own, as she placed the cotton between the fingers. Patsy abandoned the idea of bandage, simply using medical tape to keep the fingers upright, and held together. Delia’s cheeks burned at the use of the nickname, and she stood once the nurse gestured for her to. 

Her cheeks had never felt so warm as she removed her hoodie, lifting the t-shirt underneath to reveal her mildly bruised skin. Patsy’s fingers grazed over the soft skin, an apology being voiced as Delia winced. “Just some ibuprofen cream for that, as for the fingers, I recommend paracetamol, and no reckless behaviour,” there was a tinge of mockery lingering in the taller girls voice, which Delia appreciated. “I swear nurses are supposed to be compassionate, Nurse,” Delia paused, glancing at the others’ ID badge. “Nurse Mount, where’s your compassion?” Delia’s sarcastic words were stifled by the material of her hoodie as she pulled it over her head, further ruffling her already messy hair. The nurse folded her arms across her chest, her face adorned with a daring half-smile.  
“Where’s your sense of danger?” Patsy quipped quickly, causing Delia to release a quiet, but ultimately defeated laugh. Delia didn’t want to leave the room, she was enjoying the company of the quick-witted redhead too much. “Touche,” she finished the argument, wishing she hadn’t. There was something so charming about Nurse Mount that made Delia wish she’d acquired more injuries. “Well, I’d say I hope I see you again, but it’s probably for the best that I don’t,” the brunette continued, her usually chipper tone unusually sad at the prospect of having to leave. Patsy grinned, looking to the ground, and nodding.  
”Well, I hope your fingers feel better,” she disposed of her rubber gloves, and face the shorter girl, with a fond smile tugging on her pink lips.  
”Thanks, Nurse Mount. Enjoy pulling toys from the noses of toddlers,” Delia joked, lingering near the gap in the curtain, giving an awkward wave, before slipping out.

Leaving the room felt kind of like leaving an old friend, or a doting girlfriend. She felt a weird, unwelcome pang in her chest. Delia raked a hand through her hair, questioning how someone she’d just met could make her feel such a way. She shook her hair, marking it down as a foolish crush. However, she couldn’t push aside the adrenaline rush that woman had elicited within her - the way her smile bought goosebumps to her skin, the same way rock climbing once did. Delia immediately wanted to call Valerie, and gush about the attractive nurse that had just bandaged up her fingers, and how soft her fingertips were, and how much she wanted to see her again. As the cold air chilled her otherwise warm skin, she came face-to-face with the realisation that it was highly improbable she’d see that exact same nurse again. Despite only being in the same room as her for about 4 minutes, it was dismal, leaving her. The only thing that had separated them from the outside world was a thin curtain, but it still felt as if it were just them in the world. The nurses’ charming smile was enough to make Delia forget she’d broken her fingers, bad enough to be diagnosed without an x-ray. 

Patsy checked the clock. The time with Delia Busby in her curtained off section was the fastest the minutes had moved all day, and that was upsetting. She was really quite a delightful woman, and Patsy wasn’t sure if it was mere wishful thinking, but it had seemed as if Delia had been flirting with her. Highly unlikely, she reminded herself, in a pessimistic tone. She had been quite attractive, too. Well, very. With an alluring and dazzling smile, accompanied in perfect harmony with glistening azure eyes, and soft-looking brunette hair, that no doubt smelled of something pleasant - like strawberries, or roses. Patsy couldn’t forget the Welsh accent, either, that sounded as sweet and smooth as golden syrup looked and tasted. Like Delia, Patsy felt the same sadness, knowing how unlikely it was that she’d ever run into the entrancing Welsh daredevil again. At least she’d have the memory repeating in her brain, like a record player on a loop, to carry her through the day of “pulling toys from toddlers noses.”


	2. Professional Idiot.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miscommunication is sent directly from hell.

“Oi, get up,” Delia groaned grumpily as she felt a foot nudge her side, trying to pry her from the comfort of her bed. Valerie persisted, shoving the girl again. “Delia! Get up. You’ve got a lesson in 40 minutes,” Val urged, buttoning up her plain black shirt. Delia extended an arm, swiping wildly, in a miserable attempt to push her assailant away. She perched herself up on her elbows, her eyes squinting to look at her short haired friend, who’d already dressed herself for her shift at the local pub. Before taking her leave, Val ripped the duvet from Delia, leaving it crumpled at the bottom of her double bed. Delia always woke up disgruntled, but this morning, the throb in her fingers only added to her grisly mood. Delia walked over to the large window in her room, opening the curtains to reveal grey skies, the sun shrouded by clouds full of rain, that threatened to fall at any moment. 

She took a large bite of toast, and hastened to button up her red polo shirt. She chewed the buttery bread, taking a large gulp of heavily sweetened tea. Delia tied her hair up, wishing she’d blow dried it before going to bed, to spare herself the disdain of dealing with the tangled brown locks the next day. Delia swiped the keys to the car from the side, tucking them in the pocket of her black skinny jeans. One of the best things about being a driving instructor was the fact she got to wear jeans, instead of poor Val, who’s duties are a bartender meant she had to wear black trousers, that bleakly reminded Delia of secondary school, and the appalling uniforms she was forced into, back home in Wales. Valerie raked a hand through her hair, thankful she’d opted to chop it short, because it meant mess was so easily corrected, unlike her poor friend, who’d have to brush and brush to correct the knots in her hair. “Right, see you later. Don’t break any more bones!” Her friend called, shutting the door to the flat behind her, leaving Delia leaning against a counter in the kitchen. 

Patsy had been awake since 7 a.m., after a distressing nightmare rendered her incapable of dozing off, no matter what she tried. She’d showered, cleaned the oven, done the laundry, and was now lounging on the sofa, her limbs exhausted, but her brain working overtime, ensuring sleep stayed well away from it’s poor victim. Trixie pottered about in the kitchen, stirring two mugs of coffee, and bringing them to the table. “Why didn’t you just use the bloody form to get her phone number?” The blonde enquired, sipping her own over-sweetened drink, and leaning back in an armchair. It was still a wonder to Patsy, how Trixie managed to make lounging in pyjamas look so damn glamorous.  
“That’s not allowed, and you know that! You are technically a nurse, too, in case you’ve forgotten,” Patsy scorned, sitting up and clutching the mug in her hands, warming her cold skin with cup. Trixie’s lips spread into a small smile “I’ve done it before, only if I know the person was interested. How’s that cute nurse you work with?” It was a well known fact that Trixie fancied Barbara. Of course, Barbara herself was too utterly clueless to know it, despite Trixie flirting with her multiple times, making it blatantly obvious. “Barbara is fine, still single, and still blissfully unaware that you fancy her,” the redheads words were met with a coy smile.  
”Back to your Welsh daredevil, you could’ve just got her number from the form, it’s not the worst thing ever” Trixie stated simply.  
”That’s weird! What would I say in the text - _“Oh, hi, I think you’ve got a nice face so I snatched your number from your admission form, hope that’s okay!”_ No, Trixie! I don’t quite fancy police knocking on the door,” Patsy’s voice was heavy with agitation, with a hidden tint of humour. Trixie giggled, and sipped her coffee. “Just a suggestion, Pats.” She conceded, accepting her defeat. 

She hated waking up early when she was on the night shift - Patsy would be in A&E from 7-2. Not as long as others, but still pretty lengthy. Patsy regretted becoming an A&E nurse, but it had a certain element of fun. She’d only thought about helping people at the time, so becoming an A&E nurse worked well for her. She could always branch out, if the moment arose. Trixie had stuck to her guns- stuck to midwifery. Patsy had started on that course, but switching to A&E nursing last minute. She didn’t hate her job, as such. Of course, the night shift predominantly meant drunk people, with broken noses or grazed knees. Patsy ran a hand through her sleek red locks, pushing them back, and standing up. “I think I’m going to take a nap,” the words sounded so foreign, Patsy rarely ever napped, but she didn’t exactly want to be assessing people on 3 hours of sleep. It was currently 11:20, so she’d have a rather long, hopefully refreshing nap, brain and thoughts permitting. 

Delia sat outside the house, tapping her fingers on the dashboard, awaiting the exit of her client. Her eyes anxiously glanced at the face of her watch. Delia pulled her phone from her pocket, unlocking the device to see a text, alerting her that her lesson had been cancelled, due to sickness. Delia expired frustratedly, and shifted over to the drivers seat. For some reason, Delia found driving quite tranquil. Being in control of where she went, what she did. It was one of the few things Delia enjoyed having control over. Valerie would already be at work, chattering with afternoon drinkers, and taking orders. The brunette had absolutely no idea how to occupy her free time. A small, impish voice rang out in the back of her mind, willing her to just sit in A&E, just in case she laid eyes on the tall, graceful nurse again, with her scintillating comments. 

Of course, that would probably win Delia a restraining order, instead of a phone number. Ultimately not a good decision, if she wanted to see the girl again. The memory of Nurse Mount just would not surrender within Delia’s mind, the loop of those four minutes unceasing within her mind. She tapped her fingertips against the wheel, humming along to the soft acoustic song the radio serenaded her with. Delia paused at a traffic light, pulling the hair band from it’s position, allowing her hair to cascade over her shoulders, tickling her neck as it rested. Delia turned the corner, towards their block of flats. Delia exited the car, just in time to see her neighbour exiting the tower. “Hey, Phyllis,” the blue eyed girl greeted brightly, locking the car behind her. The elder woman smiled, and pulled her coat on over her hospital uniform. “Hello, Delia. No lesson this morning?” She questioned, pausing in her steps. Delia shook her head, with a smile. “Well, must get off. I’ve got an expectant mother awaiting my arrival,” Phyllis marched towards her car, keys in hand, before Delia grasped for her attentions again. “Phyllis, you wouldn’t happen to know a nurse with the last name Mount, would you?” Nurse Crane was a midwife, predominantly, Delia knew this, but they worked in the same hospital - surely they must’ve had run-ins? Or so, Delia’s logic argued. It was unprofitable, however, as her elder counterpart shook her head, with a conciliatory smile. Delia just nodded, looking visibly downcast as she waved her friend off, and entered the building. 

Every pillow seemed too soft, or the air too warm, or the duvet too stifling. Patsy lay on her bed, arms and legs pointed out, with her duvet tossed onto the floor, and pillow against her chest. Lethargy covered her, like her duvet once had, but sleep just did not come. She told herself she was trying too hard to sleep, squeezing her eyes shut too lightly, or forcing herself to lie down. She just rolled over, a pillow between her arms, cuddled to her chest. Patsy exhaled, her breath feather light, and smelling pleasantly of mint. “Patsy?” In the doorway, Trixie lingered, shutting the door behind her as she entered. “You really need to sort out your sleeping pattern,” her friend scolded, but Patsy knew she meant well. Trixie flopped herself down next to Patsy, pulling the girl towards her, and wrapping her arms around the much taller girl. Patsy just sighed, too exhausted to speak; she inhaled the floral scent of Trixie’s perfume, and enjoyed the soft feeling satin of the others’ pyjamas against her cheek. She shut her eyes languidly, as Trixie hummed some new Ed Sheeran song she was hopelessly obsessed with. 

With Trixie stroking her hair, and humming quietly, sleep slowly fell upon the girl, like the beginning of an intense rainstorm - a few droplets fell slowly, before the clouds opened and poured down everything they had. That’s how Patsy felt. One moment her eyes had been open, staring at the wall, and the next she’d fallen asleep almost instantly. Trixie quietly, and lightly shifted herself, leaving Patsy in the bed on her own, covered by a fluffy blanket, her chest rising and falling placidly. Trixie noiselessly shut the door, tiptoeing into the living room. Her attentions were caught by the notification light of her phone, which she hastened to unlock and read, just in case the cute nurse had replied. A wide beam captured her lips as she saw the contact name ‘Barbara’. The message simply read: “We should go for coffee sometime! Without Patsy, if you’d like” Potentially the best text message Trixie had ever received, despite the simplicity of the words. She grinned to herself, dropping her phone onto the sofa and balling her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white, so overjoyed at the prospect of coffee with the sweetest nurse Trixie had ever seen. 

The walk to the parkour gym was short, about 10 minutes away from their flat. Delia plugged her headphones in, locking the flat behind her, and jogging down the stairs, her feet moving seemingly in rhythm to the thundering tones of Fall Out Boy. She walked down the pathway, the brisk environment not bother her as she strode past people, her eyes focused intently on the grey concrete, with its cracks and dips where puddled would form during the rainier days. Delia switched from the loudness of Fall Out Boy to a quieter song, with love filled lyrics and quiet guitar tones. She couldn’t help but think of the attractive nurse again, and how utterly perfect it’d be if she walked into her on the street, how they’d exchange looks of shock, but they’d smile at each other nonetheless. How it could be like a scene from a rom-com, with stares that linger for moments too long, and a romantic kiss under the orange glow of a street lamp. When Delia looked up from the pavement, she didn’t see a head of fiery red hair, she just saw dismal looking people, who had places to be. 

Delia dusted the gripping powder over her hands, before stretching her limbs. She walked into the main area, finding a more secluded area to practice. She exhaled, approaching a section of walls, and industrial looking poles. Delia lifted herself up onto one of the redbrick walls, using her upper body strength to propel herself forward. She ran along the length of the wall, before jumping, and grasping a hold of a pole, she then flipped herself around, and let herself drop to the floor, bending her knees as her feet hit the concrete floor. She wiped her hand on her forehead. Delia spent the next 10 minutes practising lifting herself up onto the pole, and balancing on them perfectly. All her motions were quickly halted by the throbbing in her fingers. “Bollocks,” she mumbled, holding them in her hand as she sat down on the wall she’d been climbing moments ago, exhaling through gritted teeth. Delia Busby was a professional idiot, who often forgot her own injuries, and therefore her own limits. It seemed as if Delia was sentenced to a life of being careful - at least for the next week. Delia didn’t take well to having to be careful - safety didn’t always suit her. 

Patsy’s eyes were met with dull light, debarred from entrance by her curtains. She sat up, and rubbed her eyes so hard she saw stars on her eyelids. She shook her head, a shaky breath leaving her lips. She checked the clock on her bedside table. 4 hours had passed since she’d fallen asleep. She threw her legs over the side of the bed, not wanting to stay in bed longer than needed. Patsy pulled on an oversized flannel shirt, striding into the kitchen. Cuddled up on the sofa, was her flatmate, giggling over something on her phone. Patsy grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, taking a bite as she watched her friend, overly entranced in her phone, the glow of which illuminated her skin. “What’s so funny?” The older woman asked, with an eyebrow raised. Trixie turned her phone off, putting it beside her. “Nothing. Do you ever go out for drinks with your co-workers?” The dimpled woman continued, trying to pass her question off as careless, whilst she plucked a particle of fluff from her black trousers. 

“No. And by co-workers you mean Barbara?” Patsy couldn’t stop the smirk that preyed on her lips, lazily spreading into a grin as Trixie feigned shock.  
“Of course not. Not just her! I know some of your other co-workers!” Patsy had never heard Trixie so defensive.  
”Mhm? Name them,” the nurse tested, with a deadpan expression on her face.  
”I- um. Um. There’s- fucking hell,” Trixie mumbled, annoyed that Patsy had thwarted her attempts to be coy.  
”I don’t often go out with them, no. Why don’t you just ask Babs out?” She pressed, predominantly so she didn’t have to listen to Trixie’s pining any more. ”Because she’s straight, Patsy,” the blonde whined, crossing her legs and fiddling with her phone. Patsy frowned, and approached the sofa. She sat herself down, and wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders, which were clad in her navy blue midwives uniform, hoping to console her. “She asked me out for coffee, but I think she thinks I’m just being friendly. Which I am, I am being friendly. Is she always so clueless?” Trixie asked, resting her head on her friends shoulder. Patsy nodded in confirmation, rubbing her companion’s arm. 

Delia laid on her sofa, opening social media apps just to read two posts, become irritated, and shut them again. Annoyance shrouded her. Delia hated not being able to run about, not being able to enjoy her usual hobbies. She folded her arms across her chest, her bottom lip stuck out, much like a toddler who’d been refused a sweet. She kicked a cushion upwards, grimacing as it hit the light. She waited for it to come back down, before kicking it upwards again. Delia darted up as the front door opened, revealing her room mate, who dropped her black bag on the floor, kicked her canvas shoes off, and walked in. “Jesus, what’s up with you?” Valerie threw her keys on the kitchen side, and turned the kettle on. Delia placed the cushion back at the end of the sofa. “I can’t do anything. Not what I usually do, anyway,” she raised her fingers, which had been neatly taped by Patsy, and Valerie replied with a sympathetic smile. “To be fair, that’s what ya get for not just climbing down, like everybody else,” her friend was always blunt, so the comment came as no shock to Delia, who just leaned back against the sofa, returning to her phone. 

Val placed the mugs down on the coffee table, pulling her knees up to her chest. “D’you wanna go out later, at least? Just me an’ you,” Valerie sipped her tea, whilst Delia contemplated the offer, before nodding a silent agreement. “Great, maybe we’ll run into your pretty nurse,” she added, earning a smile from the thoroughly downcast Delia. “I asked Phyllis if she knew any nurses by the name of Mount, and she said no,” Delia added, “I’m starting to feel like I made her up.” She frowned, turning to lie on her side, and face the short haired girl, who pursed her lips, and drank more of the hot liquid in her cup. 

The sky outside was beginning to darken, Patsy having spent her time conversing with Trixie on the sofa, laughing about everything under the sun. She pinned a few stray strands of hair back from her face. Patsy surveyed her appearance once more in the mirror, leaning forward to tie her shoelaces up. “Are you off?” Trixie’s voice echoed through the apartment. Patsy yelled a ‘Yeah’, in a return, and pulled her coat over her shoulders. Patsy dashed out of the flat, and down the stairs, fearing she’d be late. She discarded the sounds of cars passing by plugging her headphones in, and listening to her motivational play-list. Patsy looked to the street-lights as she passed, adoring how the orange glow could make people look so much softer. Above her, clouds shielded the stars from the harsh gaze of human eyes. Patsy’s staring caused her to bump into someone, and mumble a “I’m so sorry”. When she took her headphones out, and looked to the person in front of her, her azure eyes widened. “You, it’s you,” Patsy commented, with a surprised smile painted on her features. Delia nodded, mirroring the smile, and saying “It’s me, and it’s you, Nurse Mount.” Hearing her talk only reminded Patsy how much she’d loved that Welsh accent. “Oh, and your friend? Girlfriend?” Patsy ventured a guess, not entirely certain she wanted the answer, quickly glancing at the girl who stood inches behind Delia. “Yep,” Delia replied, not hearing the last part of the sentence, but not wanting to ask the other to repeat it. “This is Valerie, and my name is actually Delia,” she gestured to the other brunette when she stated her name, who smiled and waved, in a friendly manner. Patsy could feel her heart shattering within her chest, and she swallowed deeply. 

A girlfriend. Patsy wanted to walk off, to avoid the entire situation, but she had to be polite. “Well, um. I’m expected at the hospital in about 10 minutes, so I have to go. Have a lovely night with your girlfriend,” She spoke curtly, as if leaving a business meeting, walking past the pair, after giving at least an amiable smile. Delia furrowed her eyebrows, confused as to why the redhead had left so quickly, after their first encounter had been so enjoyable. “Lovely night with- girlfriend?” Delia repeated, only just registering the articulated words that had elicited from the nurse. Her blue eyes glanced to Valerie, who shook her head. Valerie paused, thinking over the entire scenario, before rubbing her forehead. Delia’s mind raced. Had she said they were dating? “I didn’t say we were together, did I?” Delia chewed on her bottom lip, intently thinking. Valerie shook her head, but said “She asked if I was your friend, or girlfriend, and you just said ‘yep’, Deels.” Valerie frowned, and tucked her hands in the pockets of her coat. Delia wanted to shout the word ‘FUCK’ from every rooftop in London, but she opted to just groan through her teeth, and trudge off towards the pub. “You’re a professional idiot, Delia.” Valerie taunted, only to receive a shove from her testy friend. She had no idea what the nurses first name was, and no idea how to correct the entire situation. All Delia knew was she _had_ to fix it, she had to correct the miscommunication, but it was made harder by the fact she didn’t know the others name, number, or address. “Bloody hell,” the Welsh woman mumbled, walking alongside her friend. Delia Busby's entire life was slowly becoming an absolutely infuriating rom-com, but she had suspicions the captivating nurse would be worth whatever effort it took to find her.


	3. Misgivings

"I just can’t believe she has a girlfriend,” Patsy sighed dejectedly, neatly folding her uniform, and placing it on her dresser. Trixie pouted sympathetically, leaning against the door frame, with her arms folded across her chest. “Maybe she just misunderstood what you asked? Probably thought you meant platonic girlfriend,” she tried to reason, only to have her attempt shot down by a disheartened redhead, who’s expression looked as happy and jovial as a wet summers day. “Well, there’s plenty more girls in London, Pats,” her friend approached, giving the taller woman a minute long embrace, before pulling back. 

”You could always just.. be friends,” Trixie suggested, with a nonchalant shrug, as she wiped down the kitchen side.   
”Hm, in the same way you’d like to be friends with Barbara?” Patsy simpered, eyes boring into Trixie.  
”Um!” Trixie’s eyes darted around, trying to muster a witty retort to silence her friend, but coming up short. “I do want to be friends with Barbara! And if it divulges into something else… well. I won’t complain,” Trixie scrunched up her nose, a broad smile accompanying the red blush on her cheeks. “She’s just so cute, Pats. You’ve seen her! Her goofy smile, and that little mole above her lip,” the blonde gushed, only to receive a snicker.   
”Trix, you’ve met her twice,” Patsy knew she in no state to judge, having brooded over someone she met once, and briefly at that.   
”Need I mention your Welsh daredevil?” Trixie quipped smartly, a neatly plucked eyebrow arching, silencing the girl in front of her. 

Delia parked the car outside the block of flats, locking it, her expression solemn as she pushed open the door to the building. “Morning,” Phyllis smiled, slipping past Delia, and thanking her. “Why the grim expression, kid?” The midwife, questioned, with a concerned expression.   
”Nothing. I messed something up… pretty badly. I didn’t mean too,” Delia explained vaguely.   
”Fix it then, moping will do you no good.” Phyllis advised, before waving and getting into her car. Delia wasn’t entirely sure how to, or if she could. She had no idea where this enticing ginger resided, but it felt as if the world would simply stop turning if Delia didn’t correct her mistakes. Now, usually, Delia Busby was wholly against the concept of love at first sight. She wasn’t convinced it was love, she just could not get this mysterious Nurse Mount out of head. She felt so drawn to someone, and it was utterly confusing, because she knew absolutely nothing about her infatuation, other than the fact she was a nurse. 

Delia trudged up the stairs, only to return to an empty flat. Valerie must have departed, running the necessary errands that Delia was always too careless to do. She collapsed on the sofa, rubbing her forehead, as if pressure would cause these thoughts to relent, to leave her in peace for one moment. Somehow, she’d ruined her chances, even though they’d met twice. She despised herself for not listening more carefully, for simply answering, for being too prideful to ask her to repeat the question. The image of the taller woman walking away haunted her. It was as if the sun had just left the sky, and no matter how hard Delia searched, she couldn’t bring the warmth back. Delia chased anything that made her heart beat faster, be it sports, danger, or redheaded nurses, with sharp tongues. 

Patsy had rarely ever sulked the way she was currently. It was beginning to irk Trixie - Patsy’s forlorn gazes, and sad music echoing through the flat via the medium of Bluetooth speaker. “Enough! God. You’d think the world had bloody ended,” Trixie turned the speaker off, her hands in the pockets of her ripped jeans. “Get up, see the world, get laid,” Trixie grabbed her friend by the arm, exhaling as she pulled her upright. “Come for a coffee with Barbara and I?” Trixie suggested, halfheartedly. She’d rather it just be her, and her Liverpudlian companion, but seeing Patsy in such a disheartening state made her willing to sacrifice her alone time. She couldn’t help but silently pray Patsy refused, and retain the smile when the taller girl shook her head. “No, no. You need to spend some time alone with her, and maybe she’ll get the bloody hint,” Patsy concluded, walking to the fridge and removing a bottle of water. Trixie could only but hope Barbara got the hint, because she wasn’t such how much longer she could keep up the coy flirting. 

“God, you’re so gay,” Patsy snorted as Trixie rolled the sleeves of her blue, red, and black plaid shirt to her elbows.   
”Shut up! You’re gay, too,” the blonde echoed, “and, er, this shirt is actually yours.” Trixie added, as if the latter was more of an absent afterthought. Patsy cocked her head to the left, silence holding the air as she eyed Trixie with dismay. “Sniff me,” Trixie demanded, waltzing up to Patsy, with a lightness in her step, reminiscent to sunlight filtering through blinds. Patsy leaned forward, inhaling the air surrounding Trixie, and nodding in confirmation. “You smell like… One Direction’s perfume?” Patsy squinted, earning a glare from Trixie, who defended the perfume, saying she loved the smell.   
”If I’m not back in two hours, assume it went well!” Trixie called, slamming the flat door behind her, leaving the prominent scent of the sweet perfume to waft through the flat. 

Barbara felt an odd sense of excitement, fuelled by the idea of meeting Trixie without Patsy. It was nerve-wracking, but ultimately exciting. Trixie Franklin was so intimidating. The way she’d stride into a place, and suddenly have every person within that room at her beck and call. How she’d enchant even the burliest of men with her dazzling, bright smile, and constantly twinkling blue eyes. Whereas, Barbara was just herself. She didn’t consider herself to have a resplendent grin, or beguiling baby blue eyes. Barbara considered herself plain; ordinary in every sense of the word, but it seemed as if Trixie saw a glimmer of something else within her. She pushed open the door to the coffee shop, seeing a casually dressed Trixie already in a booth, with her hands wrapped around a mug of steaming hot chocolate. 

”Hello, you,” Trixie greeted, with the same warm, dazzling smile Barbara had been thinking about only seconds ago.   
”Hi, sorry I was late. I misjudged how long the walk was,” she apologised, removing her coat, and sitting across from the other, her nostrils instantly graced with the scent of Trixie’s perfume, which had been slightly muted by the overwhelming smell of coffee, but was pleasant, nonetheless. The fragrance suited her very well - it was aromatic, and strong, but ultimately not overpowering. “I got you a hot chocolate, I remember seeing you with one when we first met,” Trixie gestured to the mug, filled with a rich looking liquid. Barbara grinned, upon hearing Trixie remembered the first time they met. “I can’t believe you remember such a small detail,” the brunette sipped the hot drink, letting out a satisfied sigh as the creamy liquid warmed her lips. Trixie smiled, pulling her legs up, and crossing them, as if she were sat in assembly in year 5 once more.   
“Course I’d remember it, it was a pretty unforgettable day,” she let her grin fall into more of a soft smile, as she raised her mug to her lips. Barbara’s cheeks flushed the same red as the poppies that stood in a vase on their table, and she wished she could fan her heated skin, without bringing attention to it. Trixie’s small smile re-opened into a broad grin as she observed the redness of Barbara’s cheeks only grow more intense. Barbara eventually sipped more of her drink. “You’re blushing,” Trixie stated the obvious, and Barbara’s lips formed their usual precious, lopsided grin, which Trixie had reserved a special place in her heart for. 

Delia had absolutely no idea what to do with herself. She just felt so utterly hopeless. Maybe it wasn’t worth thinking about her? Delia had tried to convince herself that the other wasn’t thinking of her, but as she listened to the dulcet tones of the 1975, she was bleakly reminded of how the nurse she adored so dearly had flirted back. “I hate how much I like her, I don’t even know her fucking name,” Delia mumbled, fiddling with a plaster that covered a scrape on her arm, lifting the edges.   
”For starters, stop fucking with your plaster, and secondly…” Valerie’s segment was paused, but resumed with the hopeless response of: “I don’t have any advice.” The sentence only seemed to pile on top of Delia’s pre-existing unrest. She flopped her head back, letting it hit the arm of the sofa with a dull thud, allowing her eyes to flutter shut, to block out the view of the world before her. 

In her dreams, the second meeting went differently. She’d asked the girl to repeat the question, and had replied with ‘no’, and she’d strode away, swagger in her step, and a new contact in her phone. She’d done everything differently, acted like she was in a movie. Delia had winked at the other, who’d blushed in return. Delia imagined that the nurse had gone to work, with an unrelenting grin on her features. Of course, when her eyes opened again, the real world settled back in her mind, and she sullenly reminded herself that the nurse had probably gone to work thoroughly annoyed, with an unrelenting frown in place of the smile Delia had envisioned. “Stop moping! You met her twice, you messed it up. When you’re on your deathbed, are you really going to be thinking about your posh nurse?” Val asked, bluntly. Delia hid her grin behind the cushion she’d been cuddling, and nodded.   
”Ow!” She exclaimed, as her short haired friend through a pillow in her direction.   
”Go have a shower, Romeo.” Valerie commanded, standing up, and making her way to her bedroom, to dress for work. 

Half an hour had passed, discussing everything under the sun with the delightful girl in front of her. Trixie never wanted to leave the coffee shop, never wanted to stop listening to Barbara talking about her love for plants, and nature, with such an undiluted and pure enthusiasm, it made Trixie feel instantly lighter. “I just- I grew up in Liverpool, there weren’t many trees and flowers there, and there still aren’t here! But, nature’s closer here, it’s a bus ride away, basically. And there’s all the garden centers! And I’m talking too much,” she flashed an awkward grin, only to be reassured when Trixie reached out, brushing her hand with her own. “I think your enthusiasm is absolutely adorable, I’ve not met anyone so enthralled with nature,” the blonde hoped her gentle words urged the other to continue, because she felt as if she could spend the rest of her days quite happily watching Barbara talk about anything that bought a smile to her lips, anything that made the overcast sky seem brighter. Instead, the other shook her head, gesturing for Trixie to talk. She raised her head, from where it rested in her palm, and began to chatter about the joys of midwifery. 

Patsy mopped the vinyl floors of their apartment, humming as she did so. Her mind drifted, wondering how things with Barbara and Trixie were going. Ultimately, she had mixed feelings about their budding relationship. Babs was so utterly clueless that Trixie would end up hurt, or they’d break up, and she’d have to deal with them both complaining about each other. Trixie worshipped the ground Barbara walked on, Patsy knew this. She knew that Trixie’s eyes glimmered dotingly whenever Barbara was the topic of the conversation. And Barbara always seemed interested in Trixie. Maybe it’d just go well? Maybe there’d be no horrendous end result? Her encounter with her Welsh daredevil had done very little to promote optimism within her mind, but this wasn’t her relationship; wasn’t her heart, or her thoughts. 

Cleaning always helped when Patsy was confused, or upset, or feeling any sort of emotion. Wiping something clean, tearing away the dirt to reveal freshness underneath was just… therapeutic. Sometimes she couldn’t clear her mind of thoughts, couldn’t filter out the negative from the positive, but she reasoned that cleaning something else basically had the same effect. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing a few stray strands back, preventing them from obstructing her vision before they even did. She chucked the sponge in the sink, expiring and leaning against counter-top, familiar, comforting aromas of disinfectant lingering in the atmosphere. Patsy had grown up around the smell of disinfectant. Some of her darkest memories involved the scent, but alternatively some of her happiest did, as well. It smelled of what she’d called home for years, and reminded her of the people she’d called home. 

Delia slathered paint onto a canvas, dragging the lilac she’d created through the candy floss pink, swirling the colours to match the sky she’d witnessed in the early hours of the morning, when the sun still tiredly hid behind buildings. Delia Busby was a connoisseur of all things dangerous, exhilarating, and rough, but sometimes, when thoughts overlapped her brain, drowning her in her own misgivings, she liked to sit down, and paint. Delia rarely ever liked having control over things, but there always came a time where she needed to arrange and compose things, to feel as if she’s grasping the concept of adulthood and mistakes. She swirled the colours, watching the lilac and pink mix with the blue. 

Delia placed the paintbrush aside, admiring the way the pastel pigments clung to the fibres, with flecks of purple intertwined with blue, but not mixed. She felt at ease; calmness wafted over her, the same way the clouds had drifted across the sky this morning. The calmest she’d felt in ages. It was so foreign- to feel her limbs relaxed, her thoughts passing like mere whispers, instead of thunderous shouts, reminding her of the mess she’d created. She was placid, and could think clearly. Delia glanced outside her window, to see night falling softly, falling like a leaf from a tree. Her head pounded, despite her newfound tranquillity. 

Trixie shut the flat door behind her, leaning against it for a moment, with a cheesy smile on her face. “Someone looks like they’d had fun,” Patsy tucked the ironing board away in a cupboard, facing Trixie, who’s grin seemed to persist. She nodded. “God, she’s so brilliant and adorable, Pats! She talked about nature for like… 15 minutes. Non-stop. It was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” Trixie’s words flowed wildly, each one more laden with adoration than the last. Patsy grinned, overjoyed to see Trixie so happy, despite her inner worries this would result in heartbreak. “Anyway, I’m full of hot chocolate, but not much else. Fancy a pub dinner?” The smaller woman suggested, not removing her coat, knowing Patsy would cave, and nod. 

It took the ginger moments to shrug a bomber jacket onto her shoulders, and slip on a pair of canvas shoes. “The one just round the corner?” Patsy held the main door open for Trixie, who released a grim shiver as she stepped out onto the pavement, for the third time that day. The younger woman nodded a confirmation, and tucked her hands in her pockets, trying to grip any shred of warmth possible. Patsy lead the way, grateful the place in question was merely a 5 minute walk away. “It looks like it’s going to snow, it’s bloody March,” Trixie’s voice was little more than a grumble, sounding like a distant rumble of thunder. Patsy released a sympathetic laugh, and wrapped an arm around her smaller companion, pulling her closer, warming her. 

Once they were inside, Trixie scoured for seats, whilst Patsy went to the bar, ordering two glasses of soft drinks. Patsy rested her hands on top of the dark-wood surface, her eyes reading the chalkboard menus whilst she waited for service. “Hi, what can I get you?” An East End accent broke Patsy from her trance, and she looked up to see the same short haired woman she’d ran into the other day.   
”Oh, your Delia’s girlfriend,” Patsy replied, trying to seem even remotely jovial, but failing, her disdain prominent on her usually pleasant features.   
”No, no, I’m not. She misheard you, and she’s too bloody prideful to ask again. I’m Valerie - her flatmate. Not her girlfriend,” Valerie’s words all poured out very hastily, giving Patsy very little time to comprehend them. Of course, when she eventually registered them, a slow, languid grin captured her features. “So, you’re not her girlfriend?” Patsy furrowed her eyebrows, now attempting to hide her happiness, instead of her disdain. Val shook her head, the motion only doubling Patsy’s joy. 

“That was the girl I saw Delia with! She’s not her girlfriend!” Patsy sounded breathless, her excitement taking the air from her lungs. She placed the drinks carefully down on the table, sitting across from Trixie, who looked utterly perplexed.   
”Delia?” Trixie raised an eyebrow at the name, before cluing on, “Oh! Your Welsh daredevil!” Patsy nodded furiously, and sipped her tall glass of lemonade.   
“She’s single, thank god.” Patsy ran a hand through her curled hair, picking up the food menu and reading the orders, whilst calculating her next move. She selected simple fish and chips, same as her friend, and approached the counter, ordering the meals with a polite smile. Moments passed, both discussed their days, and enjoyed the food presented to them. “Sorry to intrude,” Valerie apologised, a piece of paper in hand, as she stood at the foot of the table. “Delia’s number - I figured you’d want it,” she placed it down on the table. Patsy almost immediately took it, stuffing it into her pocket, like a squirrel storing away provisions for a harsh winter.   
“Thank you- I’m sorry for being so curt when we first met,” a repentant smile accompanied her words, and Valerie waved her hand, dismissing it.   
”I would’ve been the same… Delia really likes you, and usually it takes her ages to like someone - you two have only met twice. It’s so weird,” Valerie looked to Trixie, with a shy smile. Patsy’s cheeks were flushed cherry blossom pink, as her fingers traced over the paper in her pocket. She smiled, her eyes shining with happiness, that felt so pure it was as if she was feeling joy for the first time. “Anyway, you two enjoy yourselves, let me know if there’s anything you need.” Valerie gave the pair a little wave, retreating back to the counter. 

Patsy hadn’t felt such overwhelming joy in ages, or at least that was how it felt - she wanted immediately to text the Welsh woman, and apologise for her bitter, unwarranted behaviour. Of course, by the time she’d unlocked her phone, and added the number to contacts, words escaped her, slipping away like rain drops down a window. “Are you going to text her?” Trixie enquired, placing her glass back down on the coaster.  
Patsy shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know what to say,” she stared at the ink on the paper before her, the way it sank in deeper to the fibres of the crisp white sheet at some points.   
“From the sounds of it, this Delia would be infatuated with absolutely anything you said.” With Trixie’s reassuring words, Patsy opened the contact, typing out multiple variations of the same message, eventually sending: _“It’s Patsy Mount, the nurse apparently lacking compassion. How’re your fingers, daredevil?”_


	4. Impatience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events following Patsy getting Delia's number.

The clock had ticked by all night, and Delia Busby had been none-the-wiser. Sure, her eyes were burning maliciously, sorely reminding her of the mistake she’d made. She’d been up all night, texting Patsy. Patsy. The name, much like the girl it belonged to, was echoed in her head constantly. It was as if she’d never heard the name before. No name had ever sounded quite so heavenly to Delia. They’d talked all night - about family, their lives, exes, what they love and dislike. It was now 7:32 a.m., and the only reason Delia was rolling over to sleep was because Patsy had to go to work. _“Have fun, try not to daydream about me too much.”_ Delia replied, quickly sending _“That sounded twattish, have a good day.”_ shooting after the other text, to redeem herself, regain her stature as someone who’s not a resounding idiot. 

Moments passed, and Delia couldn’t find it in herself to tear her eyes away from the phone screen, hoping she’d see a little blue bubble appear, or a small ‘qwip’ sound would resonate from the device. Delia let her eyes fall shut for only a moment, hoping to quell the burning sensation. She exhaled softly, pulling her duvet to her chin. The Welsh woman was overjoyed - Patsy Mount was real, and as brilliant as Delia had imagined her to be - in fact, she’d surpassed Delia’s expectations, the mound of adoration only growing each time the ‘qwip’ sound was released, and Delia read the words. Just thinking about the girl made the corners of Delia’s mouth turn up, into a tender smile. She was grateful to have the day off, however, because Delia Busby and sleep deprivation never mixed well. 

Patsy rubbed her eyes, and sipped the black coffee she clung her hands to, siphoning ever slither of warmth she could. “You look awful,” Barbara commented bluntly, as soon as Patsy walked into the staff room. Patsy shot the girl a glare, partnered with a sarcastic smile, which ultimately bared greater resemblance to a grimace.  
“Worth it, though,” Patsy seated herself on the sofa, with it’s yellow pattern, that matched absolutely none of the other furniture within the room. Barbara looked intrigued, as she sat down next to her friend. “I got the number of the Welsh girl with the broken fingers - Delia, her name is Delia,” the name rolled of Patsy’s tongue, as if she’d uttered it a thousand times before. It sounded so… ambrosial. So sweet to say, and to hear.  
“Oh! Trixie mentioned that,” Barbara clutched her own hot drink, sipping it as she listened. 

“Go on, then!” Barbara implored, earnest in her words.  
”Well, we were up all night texting. I texted her first, at about 6, just after Trixie got back from her da- from getting coffee with you,” Patsy hoped Barbara hadn’t picked up on her mistake, and from the way Babs gestured for her to continue, she assumed was none-the-wiser to Patsy’s verbal slip up, “well, it was probably later. But she was napping, and she woke up about 4 hours later, and replied, and I was just about to get into bed but before I knew it, it was half 7, and we’d sent almost 100 messages, probably more. She’s so easy to talk to, and so funny, and charming,” Patsy’s words effused fondness, provoking Barbara to smile, simply because she was happy her was friend was so excited over something; over someone.  
”I’m happy for you!” Barbara beamed, placing her cup down on the coffee table, “Trixie’s easy to talk to, too, she scared me so much at first. She looks like a movie star, constantly, but she’s got such a kind heart and she’s just so…” Barbara paused, exhaling whilst she browsed her vocabulary for the right word. “I can’t pinpoint it, she’s just lovely,” she turned to Patsy, who’d raised both eyebrows at this point. 

Trixie Franklin made Barbara’s heart feel so happy, and beat so fast. She made her feel so adored, so cared for, and they’d met 3 times, but had texted for hours. Of course, Barbara couldn’t spew this to Patsy - what if Patsy knew how Trixie felt, and what if it wasn’t reciprocated? In addition to that, Barbara wasn’t entirely sure if she liked Trixie, or _liked_ her. She’d never had a crush on a girl, the feeling was so unfamiliar. You’d assume it’d feel the same as liking a boy, but it didn’t. There was a nagging worry that she was straight, and would be repulsed by the Liverpudlian’s romantic feelings. It was such a grey area to Barbara, and Patsy wasn’t indifferent, so she couldn’t spill her thoughts to her. It was distressing, but it was the sweetest distress Barbara had ever felt. 

“Are you awake?” Valerie knocked cautiously on the wood of Delia’s door, just in case the girl hadn’t yet awoken. At 2 a.m. this morning, she’d heard a muffled giggling, through the thin walls. She’d assumed she’d been talking to Patsy, and gone back to sleep. Now, she wanted the details. Val heard a groan, followed by the sound of sheets ruffling, and entered. “So. What was so funny at 2 o’clock this morning?” Valerie made herself at home on the edge of Delia’s bed, with her arms folded across her chest. The drowsy girl propped herself up against the headboard of her bed, a loud yawn being stifled into the palm of her hand.  
“Well. You gave Patsy my number, and we were up all night talking. I regret…” Delia was cut off, yawning into her hand again “I regret nothing. She’s so smart, and I think she was flirting with me - I hope so, because I was proper flirting with her,” she held her phone tightly in her hand, as if she was cradling the most expensive jewels in the country. Valerie smirked, pride evidently lingering within the smile. “Don’t look so smug! I was going to sort it all out!” Delia stressed, in self-defence.  
”I don’t doubt you were going to, Deels. I just… helped the process along,” Val testified, “I know you’re capable of it, but you were so bloody miserable, it hurt my chest to see you trudging around, acting like you’d lost the love of your bloody life! I wanted to help,” she clarified, her hands raised, and eyes locked with her friends.  
”I know, I know,” Delia acknowledged, putting her friend’s nervousness at ease. 

Delia had spent a great deal of the night wondering how to ask Patsy out - over text, ask to meet in person and then pop the question? Every way just seemed wrong. A small, wicked voice in the back of her mind told her that the redhead wouldn’t wish to go out with her. Delia tried so hard to ignore it’s bitter quips, but as she sat in silence, she couldn’t help but argue there was some truth behind it. Surely the voice wouldn’t be there, otherwise? But, she’d argued, Patsy had been so irked when she thought Delia had a girlfriend. Delia nibbled on her already short nails, pondering over every possibility she could imagine. The reality of the situation was, Delia had never had a proper relationship - in fact, she hadn’t liked anyone since secondary school. She’d forgotten what adoration felt like - the racing heart, the wondering eyes, the forlorn smiles. It’d been lost on her, the memories wiped from her mind. She couldn’t even remember the first girl she’d liked, or loved. Couldn’t recall her eye colour, or the shade of her hair, or the way her voice sounded. 

Patsy washed her hands, applying a generous amount of apple scented soap, lathering the gel into her hands. “Boo,” Barbara proclaimed from behind, causing the taller girl to jump, splashing cold water over her pristine blue tunic.  
”Bloody hell, Barbara!” She exclaimed, turning the tap off, and retrieving a fistful of paper towels, to dab against the damp material of her clothes. Barbara giggled childishly behind her, hiding her amusement behind her hand.  
”Sorry, Pats. Trixie’s here, apparently you two were going for an early lunch?” Barbara pointed towards the waiting room with her thumb, the ghost of a blush on her cheeks. Patsy huffed, checking the clock.  
”I don’t think I can make it - I’ve got a patient in there, with a nose that’s spewing more blood than the taps spew water,” she glared with annoyance at the taps, which often faltered their flow.  
”We could swap lunches, if you’d like? I’m not out until 12, you could take that…” Barbara suggested, hoping she sounded innocent; hoping Patsy ignored the hidden agenda behind her offer, taking the proposal as mere friendliness. However, Patsy Mount was not stupid. She knew what her smaller friend was insinuating, and couldn’t help but nod in agreement to the suggestion. Barbara beamed blithely, having to restrain herself from bouncing on the spot, and clapping her hands together. “I’ll go tell Trixie.” Barbara composed herself, to the best of her ability, and skipped off to the waiting room. 

Patsy adjusted her ponytail, walking back into the room. “Right, have we stopped bleeding?” She asked, receiving a nasal sounding ‘yes’, and a pile of bloody tissues as an answer. She smiled, and threw the crumpled tissues into the metal domestic waste bin. “I would recommend you see a doctor, if these persist,” Patsy advised, handing the young patient two cotton wool nose plugs, and signing the bottom of the form. “Other than that, you’re good to go!” Patsy painted her expression with her best, most sparkling reassuring smile, and parted the curtains for the patient to exit. As soon as the patient was past the corner, and into the wide, unsettling pristine hallway, Patsy retrieved her phone from the pocket of her trousers. She opened Delia’s contact, reading the messages, with a smile formed of tenderness, and humour. _“I’m two bloody noses in, and all I can think of is whether or not you’re taking care of your fingers.”_ She quickly typed out the words, sending the text, and slipping her phone back into her pocket, out of sight-line. Patsy walked out of her designated area, surveying the waiting room through the large, window. It was essentially empty- the majority were holding the bent, crumpled yellow x-ray cards, which she couldn’t help with. 

Delia was just shutting the front door, departing from the safety of her flat, when her phone vibrated within the pocket of her thin black bomber jacket. She’d asked for any lessons of hers to be cancelled - due to sleep depravity, and broken fingers, that still throbbed whenever she attempted to bend them, or even use them. She removed the device from it’s home, reading the message, and unlocking her phone, with such simple, yet staggering excitement. Just unlocking her phone to reply to a message from Patsy made her heart speed up. _“Actually, the little bastards are throbbing. They’re still bruised as hell, as well. Is that normal?”_ Delia responded, holding her phone in her hand as she paced down the stairs. 

“Morning, Phyllis!” She greeted brightly, earning a surprised smile from the short haired woman.  
”You’re very spritely! Did you find your nurse?” She enquired, a knowing smile tugging on her lips.  
”I did!” Delia replied, with a quick nod.  
”Don’t lose her again. I’ve not known you long, kid, but this is the happiest I’ve seen you,” Phyllis advised, her words stern, despite the gentleness in her eyes. Delia grinned, and nodded.  
”I’m headed out - need anything?” Delia asked kindly, feeling her phone vibrate against the cold skin of her hand, containing her eagerness to reply, not wanting to appear rude. Phyllis shook her head, and thanked her for the thoughtful offer. 

_”Well, it’s only been about 3 days, to be fair. Are they unbearably painful?”_ Delia was momentarily taken aback at the speed of the response. She pushed the door to the building open with her foot, slipping out the small gap she’d allowed herself, phone in hand as she thought of a reply. _”No. Just more of an inconvenience. Aren’t you at work?”_ The weather wasn’t as cold as it had been, but it still slipped past the thin material of Delia’s jacket, raising goosebumps to her pale skin. The sky was clear today, however. The sun shone down brightly: illuminating Delia’s skin, and making the blue in her eyes seem as vibrant as the Tenerife sea, casting shadows on the pavement. Delia walked along the street, listening to the zipping sounds of cars speeding past, and the sound of the soles of her shoes crushing pebbles beneath her feet. The concept of liking someone this much in such a short period of time was still baffling. They knew each other better now, of course, but it was still so odd. Years without any sort of crush, and then one hits her, like a stormy wave crashing against a pebble, sweeping it into it’s grasp, with unforgiving strength. Delia didn’t hate it, but she’d not navigated the minefield of dating in years, she feared she’d step on a mine, and lose her chance. 

Patsy leaned against the examination bed in her room, phone in hand. She’d answered Delia’s text, but some time had passed without word from the other. Worry slithered into the back of her mind - maybe she’d said something wrong? Replied too quickly? Did she seem too clingy? Not interested enough? Patsy huffed exasperatedly, tucking her phone back into her pocket, where it belonged. Patsy remembered texting to be easier than it was now - with Delia, she’d spend time carefully rereading the text, making sure she didn’t seemed too eager, or too disinterested. Her memories of texting were far less stressful. It wasn’t a negative stress, though. She was just anxious - which was both caused by, and put at ease, by her Welsh daredevil. She sat down on the padded chair, resting her head in the palm of her hand, her mood accented by an anguished sigh. Five minutes passed, with Patsy’s azure eyes focused on nothing but the white washed wall ahead of her. She loved being in the corner booth - it had actual walls, in comparison to curtains. It just felt more secure, more secretive. Patsy pushed herself up from the comfort of the chair, and into the corridor, retrieving a clipboard, with the details of her next patient inscribed on the form.

Delia had been so entranced in her own thoughts that she’d ignored the buzz in her pocket. Dating was such a fragile thing, one wrong move and the entire structure could collapse; make no motions, and the structure never forms. She didn’t want to ruin it, her biggest obstacle was that she didn’t know how to start it. It was sort of similar to climbing, in a weird respect; you have all those grips in front of your eyes, but you have to carefully calculate which will cause you to fall, to lose your footing, or alternatively, which will help you scale upwards, towards your goal. Her neighbours words were the only coherent, recurring thought; “Don’t lose her again”. Matters of the heart were never Delia’s strong suit. She wanted it all, and Delia Busby was not renowned for her patience. 

The first day after their initial meeting, Delia had questioned whether or not she’d made the girl up; whether her mind had conjured the perfect red hair, and the crystal blue eyes that never seemed to dim, or falter from Delia’s own gaze. If her mind, in desperation, had formed this angelic girl, that seemed to radiate only joy. She still questioned it, even now. Even now she’d been talking to Patsy. It astounded her - Patsy Mount existed. Somebody with a smile that contended the sun, and eyes that fought the ocean for the title of “most stunning blue”. Someone with skin as soft as the petals of a daisy. A girl with cheekbones carved from marble, and dimples in her cheeks. It shocked Delia that girls like that were, in actuality, not just words on paper - not just characters in books. Just the thought of Patsy caused heat to crusade upwards from the flesh of her neck, to her cheeks, leaving a red blush in it’s wake, and a shy smile on her lips. Delia’s chest felt so warm, thinking about the girl. The chilled air did very little to keep the warmth spreading through Delia at bay. Delia was a firm believer that if anything made you feel happy, made you feel warm, even in Winter, you should clutch it tightly to yourself. Happiness can be fleeting, and to find something that brings a flush to your cheeks, and a smile to your lips, you should hold that thing, or that person, in Delia’s case, so close to your heart. 

Some hours passed - Patsy’s time was occupied by injured teenagers, and disgruntled pensioners with aches in their ankles. She was absolutely exhausted; the bags under her eyes grew more agitated with every second that her eyes were open, and the throb in her head increased each time she had to read something. Patsy groaned, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips, the pressure pushing some of the pain away, if only for a moment. She had to go home - home to her soft pillow, and heated blankets. She scanned the obnoxiously bright corridors, looking for her superior, so she could complain and depart. She saw the dark haired, smartly dressed doctor, holding forms in his hands. Dr. Turner was a friendly man - always had been. He’d understand. As soon as she approached, trying to keep a yawn from slipping, he tilted his head to the left, a stern expression on his face. “Nurse Mount, you look very tired. Go home.” His words were firm, but caring. Patsy nodded, smiling gratefully as she walked towards the staff room. 

Her eyes were burning by the time she left the hospital, her steps swayed, and yawns pouring from her lips, like rain from the clouds. She folded her arms across her chest, trying to keep the woollen material close to her chest. She withdrew her phone from her pocket, to see a blank screen, and to feel sadness creep up on her. Surely she can’t have done anything wrong already? That would be a new record, even by Patsy’s standards. She stared at the already exchanged messages, rereading her words in case she’d messed up somehow- put a full stop in the wrong place, used a word that made her sound annoyed. Of course, Patsy Mount was as stubborn as they come. She wouldn’t send a message asking if she’d annoyed the other, never. Maybe Delia had just fallen asleep? It wouldn’t be surprising, the Welsh girl had spent the night awake, ardently replying to Patsy’s messages. 

Delia shut the door to the flat behind her, nudging it with her foot. She strode into the kitchen, placing the many bags of food onto the floor, ignoring the sharp pain that bought redness to the skin of her fingers. With determination enveloping the girl, she opened her phone, reading the last message Patsy had sent, saying that yes, she was at work, but it was boring. _“Hey. Sorry I made you wait! Had to nip out and do some-”_ Delia faltered, originally typing the word ‘shit’, but aptly opting to replace it with “stuff”. She sent the first message, her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip whilst she thought of the most charismatic and not-at-all creepy way to ask the girl out. _“I was wondering if later tonight you’d wanna meet up?”_ Delia pushed all thoughts to the back of her mind, as her thumb tapped the send button. She widened her eyes, her mind registering how absurdly forward it sounded, hastening to add: _“Not for anything weird. Just like. Two friends, getting together. We could go out for dinner, or just wander around”_. 

Patsy strolled down the pathway, her keys jangling in her pockets, and fingers numb from the sharpness of the cold. The sun didn’t very little to warm Patsy, when buildings left her shrouded in shadow. The nurse almost leaped from her skin when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket, intrepidly removing the device from the safety of her pocket to read the messages. A broad grin parted her soft lips, creating wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. An offer to meet up - simply as friends. The grin only widening, joy pouring from the beaming smile, as she paused her walking. At this point in time, Patsy didn’t care about seeming too eager - being too over-zealous. Unbeknown to her, Delia was equally as impatient. Patsy artfully replied, agreeing to meet up, at 6 p.m. All worries and negative thoughts that had told her she’d done something wrong slipped away, like water through a sieve. They were replaced with elation, which coursed through Patsy’s body as easily as her own blood did. It entranced her, causing her to speculate about what the night held, what the starry skies had in store for Patsy Mount. The redhead knew she’d need to nap before going out, so she could be as jovial as she currently felt, but with the intense combination of fever, adoration, and glee coursing through her, falling asleep would be like bottling shadows - ultimately impossible.


	5. "Yes, boss."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new arrival, and an over-exaggeration.

As Patsy has assumed beforehand, falling asleep was impossible. She’d squeezed her eyes shut so tight that dots of colour appeared on her eyelid - she’d darkened the room so much she couldn’t even see her own hands. But, sleep? No where to be found. She tried looking for it in books, in videos, in quietly humming songs to herself, but it was hopeless. All her mind could think of was Delia, waiting on a street corner for her, her skin softly lit up by the orange light of streetlamps, a rosy blush accenting her cheeks, bought on by the cold, and hopefully later that night, the same blush bought on by Patsy herself. That image, that daydream, constantly playing over and over, until Patsy was the one with the rosy blush on her cheeks, that ached from smiling. 

Delia, on the other hand, just kept re-reading Patsy’s text - agreeing to meet on the corner of Whittle Street. It always fell back to Delia’s disbelief - disbelief that Patience Elizabeth Mount was real. She stirred the mug of steaming tea, watching the milk lighten the tan coloured liquid. She’d forget about their arrangement for a moment, but when the thought snuck its way back into her mind, Delia felt like she was reading the message all over again. Everything seemed so much lighter than usual - her footsteps seemed less heavy, her thoughts didn’t drag across her mind, like prisoners with chains attached to their ankles, instead they drifted across languidly. Nothing occupied Delia for longer than 5 minutes - TV shows were too boring, painting was too calm, and she couldn’t bound and leap from things like she usually would. Nothing would occupy Delia Busby, not whilst insatiable excitement found a home within her. 

Patsy had rolled around in her bed for at least two hours, now. She’d sat up, she’d sunk back down, she’d kicked the sheets off, and then pulled them back up. “Patsy! I can hear you,” Trixie’s voice reverberated off the walls, making it’s way to Patsy’s ears. She groaned softly, burying her face into the crook of her arm. “Just get up! You’re doing no good for yourself lying in bed! Plus, we’re getting a visitor!” The words did little to motivate Patsy - she just wanted to lie in bed, and daydream about the night ahead of her - if Delia would kiss her, if Delia would just ask to be friends, if this was even a date, if Patsy would mess things up - the list was endless, much like Patsy’s anxiety. However, her friend was right. Patsy reminded herself that daydreaming wasn’t limited to the bedroom. She jostled the cotton sheets from their tangled state, shoving them to the foot of the bed. She flicked the light switch, her lineaments contorting into a grimace as the seemingly harsh light exacerbated the ache in her head. 

Trixie swiped the side over with the cloth once more, tossing the rag to the side, and opening the medical cupboard, as soon as she heard the creak of Patsy’s bedroom door. She removed two migraine relief tablets from the confines of their foil wrapping, placing them alongside a glass of water. “So. Excited?” Trixie asked, shifting on her feet so Patsy could reach the tablets.  
”Trix, my head hurts like a bitch. I might have to cancel,” the sadness that Patsy’s tone held bought a frown to the blondes lips.  
”Did you get any sleep?” Trixie pressed further, her arms folded across her chest.  
”Yeah, like, an hour?” Patsy sipped some more water after swallowing the pain relief medication. “I don’t want to have to cancel it, but I don’t want to be boring and grumpy.” Patsy’s words were barely audible; they escaped her lips as little more than a disgruntled grumble.  
”Okay, hear me out-” Patsy raised her gaze to look at her smaller friend, her eyebrows raised, and lips forming a thin line. Whenever Trixie Franklin started a sentence with ‘Okay, here me out’ she was either going to continue it with something utterly preposterous, and completely undo-able, or something very smart, but a bit risky - or something rude. “Don’t pull that face! Anyway. Why don’t you just.. invite her back here? Stop with the faces! I mean, just, to chill. I can go out, of course.”  
Patsy’s facial expression had altered so many times during that, that Trixie wasn’t entirely sure how the girl was going to respond; shock, disgust, maybe a laugh.  
”I- that’s not a bad idea, I don’t know. Maybe. She might think I’m being--” the sentence was cut short, by a timid knock on the front door. A knock Trixie instantly recognised, made noticeable by the dimpled grin that found her lips. 

“Mornin’,” Valerie greeted, shutting her bedroom door behind her, her short hair ruffled and spiked in places.  
”It’s 1 p.m.,” Delia replied, an amused smirk painting her lips as she stared at the TV.  
”I know what I said,” Val ruffled Delia’s apple scented brown hair as she walked past, towards the kitchen.  
”Valerie, I swear to everything good on this earth, if I hear a ramen noodle packet opening--” just as the syllables departed from Delia’s mouth, she heard the packet being opened. “I’ve never known someone to eat so much fucking ramen,” she shook her head, half in disgust, and half in sheer disbelief. Valerie just shrugged her shoulders, yawning as she dressed the noodles with hot water, and the small season packet. “You astound me, truly.” To which Val replied with a half smile, and finger guns. “I’m going out tonight,” Deels continued, hoping to seem casual, with her blue eyes staring at the screen (which she had 0 interest in). Val stirred the pot, the scent of chicken somehow shrouding their entire flat.  
”With Patsy?” Valerie inquired, a percipient expression on her face.  
”Yeah,” Delia spook cooly, readjusting her position so she could face Valerie, who was stood behind her.  
”Cut the crap, Busby. You’re nervous!” Valerie pointed towards her friend, grabbing her scorching cup of noodles, and approaching the sofa. 

”Am not nervous!” Delia defended herself. Biggest lie Delia Busby had ever told - nervousness was the only thing Delia felt, currently. She wasn’t her usual cool, collected and charming self - she was a tiny bundle of anticipation.  
”Course you’re not, that’s why you’ve been pacing over the fuckin’ flat all morning,” Valerie nodded her head, her chin puckering with her sarcastic smile.  
”Alright, whatever. I don’t know. She’s… scary. In a good way. She’s just--”  
”Yeah! So pretty, charming, funny, smart, adorable. I know, Delia. I know.” The girls smile changed from sarcastic, to sympathetic in mere seconds. Delia groaned, leaning forward, her head in Valerie’s lap. “Just, calm down, yeah? She liked you when you were that twat with broken fingers,” Valerie glanced down, to see the bruised digits still strapped up, “alright, well, you still are the twat with broken fingers,” that part of her speech earned her a slap, with Delia’s non-injured hand, “but, my point is: she’s going to like you regardless, I’m sure you could show up stark naked, with a Nando’s reservation, and she’d still like you.” Val, of course, was right. Delia could show up naked as the day she was born, baring a nothing more but a table at Nando’s, and Patsy’s growing adoration wouldn’t falter - wouldn’t crumble, or break. With her friend’s amenable words, Delia sat up, nodding confidently, and taking a forkful of her friends noodles. 

”Cynthia!” Trixie beamed, exclaiming and running towards her friend. Her arms wrapped around the smaller girl so tightly, Patsy feared she’d never see her again. Cynthia’s eyes shut upon impact, her arms flailing temporarily before embracing the other, warmly. “I’ve missed you, so much.”  
”I’ve missed you, too,” Cynthia smiled, tears welling in the her brown eyes. Patsy leaned against the doorway, watching the scene. She knew exactly how much Trixie had missed Cynthia - she’d heard Trixie crying some nights, after getting off the phone with her friend. Cynthia had spent some time in a hospital, for her mental illness. Cynthia had recently checked herself out, and Trixie had been more than obliging to have the girl stay with them. The pair stood for a while, enveloped in a hug that looked as if it was never going to end, until Trixie pulled back.  
”Right, let’s get you inside!” Trixie wiped under her eyes with the sleeves of her cotton shirt, which had roses embroidered onto the collar. Cynthia nodded, picking up her suitcases and walking in, exchanging a smile with Patsy. 

“The plan is, for me to sleep with Patsy, and you have my room. Unless you’d rather share,” Trixie refilled the kettle, placing it back on it’s base. As Trixie spoke, Cynthia stepped back from hugging Patsy, and shredded her coat.  
”For the first few nights, I’d like to have someone in the room with me - I’m not very good with new places, never have been,” Cynthia directed her request to Trixie, who nodded obligingly.  
”That’s okay, I’m sure Pats will need her room for herself, anyway,” the blonde topped off her sentence with a suggestive wink. Cynthia’s lips spread into a smile, and she looked upwards to the ginger, who was still clad in striped pyjamas. “Sit down! We’ve got loads to tell you, haven’t we, Pats?” Cynthia rushed forward, taking one of the cups of tea from Trixie’s hands, worried the girl would send the cup tumbling to the ground. Cynthia took the old looking armchair, whilst Trixie and Patsy sat on the plush sofa. Cynthia smiled contentedly, happy to be back in the company of friends, with a warm mug of PG Tips in her hands, and Trixie’s familiar, sorely missed dimpled smile across from her.  
”Well, spill it! I want to know why Patsy needs a room to herself so desperately.” 

“Well, for starters - I met a girl, at work. She came in with broken fingers, accused me of having no compassion, and then flirted with me, basically non-stop,” Patsy paused, inhaling, before continuing:  
”And then, I ran into her on the streets, and she was with another girl, and I asked if that was her girlfriend - this girl was absolutely adorable, by the way - and she said ‘yeah’, and I was like ‘oh, great, I’m done for’ and moped around for a while, UNTIL, Trixie and I went out for dinner, and I ran into the girl I thought was Delia’s - the girl with the broken fingers - girlfriend. Turns out, it was all miscommunication, and Delia really likes me. I got her number from Valerie, and we’re going out tonight.” Patsy finished, rather breathless. “It sounds so… dramatic, now I say it out loud,” she scrunched up her nose, turning to Cynthia, who nodded slowly, processing the messy story. 

”Right… And you like her, too?” The brunette questioned, taking a gulp of her sweetened tea, a content sigh escaping her lips afterwards. Trixie still remembered how to perfectly craft a cup of tea for Cynthia - the perfect balance between strength and sweetness. She gave a grateful smile to Trixie, who reciprocated it.  
”I do, I like her a lot. Weird, I’ve only known her for like… 4, 5 days? But. Everything about her is just so… perfect,” Patsy’s voice cracked as she spoke, perfectly conveying the emotion she felt. “She’s so sweet, everything about her. She’s got this **glorious** Welsh accent, and her arms, oh my god - I just,” the room felt incredibly warm as she spoke, and she ended her speech with a helpless ‘fft’ noise, earning a laugh from Cynthia - which Trixie absolutely loved.  
”The poor girl is absolutely smitten,” Trixie patted her ginger friend on the back.  
”She seems it! What about you?” Cynthia enthused, tilting her head to the left. She could only hope Trixie was as happy as Patsy, because the girl deserved it. Trixie couldn’t contain her smile now, as the thought of Liverpudlian Barbara Gilbert crept back into her mind. 

 

”Well, there’s a girl, but, she’s absolutely oblivious, honestly,” Trixie crossed her legs, “I want to tell her I’m bisexual, but I’m not sure how to go about it - I just, I don’t know. She’s so… pure,” Trixie eyed Patsy, who was now looking to the clock anxiously, watching the minutes tick away. “I don’t know, I like her because she’s so pure - and her smile, I swear,” Trixie exhaled as she finished, a soft smile on her lips, countering the distress in her words. Cynthia nodded, tilting her head to the left. Patsy’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, vibrating itself to the edge of the table. The nurse curved the corners of her lips downwards, grabbing the device. She swiped along the screen, answering the call.  
”Hello? It’s Delia,” a voice spoke from the other end, and Patsy’s features were instantly captured by a wide, bright smile, and a glimmer in her eyes. “I just wanted to check we were still on for tonight…” Silence held the phone for a moment, whilst Patsy stood, and jogged back to her bedroom. “And, hear your voice. Y’know, check you’re actually real, and honestly the silence isn’t promising.” Patsy could almost hear the smirk on the Welsh woman’s face. 

”Yeah, we’re still on! Sorry, we have a guest over. We’re still on,” Patsy couldn’t shake the fact Delia wanted to hear her voice, much like she couldn’t shake her grin.  
”Good, good! That’s great. I also need some medical advice,” Patsy listened to the Welsh accent, which still sounded as crisp and sweet, even through the phone’s speakers.  
”Go on, daredevil,” she urged.  
”Well - it’s been four days, right? Am I right in thinking the bruising should’ve gone?” Delia questioned.  
”Yeah, you are, just about. Has it not gone?” Patsy asked the first question, before adding “Hold on, hold on. Have you actually been resting them?” 30 minutes away, Delia’s skin was flushed with a shameful blush.  
”No - I couldn’t do it! It’s boring, Pats,” the nickname rolled off her tongue simply, but elicited a surprised reaction in the other girl.  
”Right. How bad do they look?” Patsy’s own pale skin was tinged with pink, at the use of the nickname, which very few actually used.  
”Er, pretty bad,” Delia exaggerated slightly - the bruising was prominent, but not as bad as she suggested.  
”Are you available? We could meet up a bit earlier, if you’d like - I could look them over at yo--”  
”Yes! Yeah. Sure!” The first word had bounced off her tongue before she’d even realised how enthusiastic it sounded. “Whittle street, 10 minutes. Don’t be late, a patient needs you,” Delia quipped, ending the call, and bouncing up and down on the spot, caring very little for the tenants below her. 

Patsy clutched her phone to her chest, and looked down at her attire. Blue striped pyjamas. Not exactly perfect. “Fuck,” she mumbled softly, chucking her phone on her bed, and quickly shedding the cotton clothes. She surveyed the contents of her wardrobe, each shirt seeming too boring. Patsy poked her head out of her bedroom door, yelling for her friends to join her in the room. She couldn’t stand still, some limb had to be moving, to stop the breathless girl from melting to the ground. Trixie and Cynthia walked in, both semi-accustomed to seeing Patsy in her underwear. “Outfit, help. We’re meeting earlier in-” Patsy checked the time, on the digital clock that perched on her end table “-in 9 minutes,” Trixie and Cynthia nodded. Cynthia gestured for Patsy to sit on the bed, as she brushed kinks from the girls ginger hair, leaving it down. Trixie masterfully plucked items from Patsy’s closet.  
”Can’t go wrong with a plaid shirt, and jeans, Pats. Screams ‘I’m gay’ and sort of nonchalant,” she threw the clothes down on the bed, and Patsy hastily changed into them, rolling up the bottoms of the worn jeans. Cynthia spritzed her with perfume, before Trixie wrapped an arm around her smaller friends shoulders. “I feel like a proud mum,” the blonde commented, observing as Patsy tied her shoelaces. 

Delia looked down, brushing some lint from her black jeans as she walked towards the aforementioned street. She was _so_ nervous. She chewed on her bottom lip, her feet moving so quickly she feared she’d trip up. Her heart beat so fast she swore she could hear it, and her eyes scanned everywhere, looking for a glowing redhead. Delia arrived on the corner first, leaning casually against the phone-box - despite her cool posture, her insides felt like jelly, and her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. Valerie had helped her in choosing her outfit, which consisted of a plain yellow jumper, oversized of course, and some black jeans, with rips at the knees. Her knees were scattered with scars, and bruises. As soon as Patsy Mount turned the corner, the air became a little harder to breathe. She wanted to tear her eyes away from the girl, to appear serene, but with every step Patsy took, as she grew closer to Delia, it was made much harder to avert your gaze.  
”Sorry I’m late, misjudged the length of the walk,” Patsy offered the other an apologetic half smile, which Delia remembered from their first meeting - the most endearing, beautiful thing she’d ever laid her eyes on.  
”That’s okay, just leave me waiting by a phone-box, it’s fine,” Delia replied, crinkles forming next to her eyes at the wideness of her smile. 

”Right. Back to mine?” Delia suggested, keeping her hands in her pockets. Patsy nodded, following the smaller girl. “It’s so weird that you’re… here,” Delia looked the redhead up and down, taking in the measure of her. Patsy’s feathered eyebrows arched perfectly, and Delia Busby swore she’d transcended from Earth - floated off into a whole new world, her only coherent thought being _’I’m so gay._ “I mean. I don’t know. We met at a hospital, and happened to run into each other again? Is that not… weird?”  
”Okay, we ran into each other again, but someone was too prideful to ask me to repeat myself, so I temporarily hated them - not naming any names,” Patsy retorted jokingly, swiftly turning the corner, her eyes not leaving Delia.  
”Alright, okay,” Delia nodded, “I see how it is, that’s fine,” she stuck her bottom lip out, looking up to the girl. Patsy’s lips formed a grin, carved of half amusement, and half oh-my-lord-how-can-one-person-be-so-angelic.  
”No, no! I didn’t hate you, well… I did. But I’m over it, now. Thanks to your friend.”  
”And my puppy eyes! Admit it, they helped,” Delia stuck her bottom lip out again, and Patsy nodded, a blush paving its way from cheek to cheek, causing Delia to smile so brightly the rest of the world seemed dim. 

“Just through here,” Delia opened the door, ushering the girl in. ~  
”Oh, hello!” Phyllis greeted them, car keys in hand.  
”Hello,” Patsy smiled courteously, sort of taken aback by the sudden greeting.  
”This is my neighbour, Phyllis. She’s a midwife,” Delia stood next to Patsy. It felt as if she were introducing her prom date to her mother. Of course, her own mother would hate Patsy. Not because she was homophobic - simply because she was English. Not Welsh. Phyllis looked over Patsy, turning her head and giving an approving wink to Delia, who couldn’t have smiled wider if she tried.  
”Patsy,” the redhead extended a hand, receiving a firm shake in return.  
”Well, you girls have fun,” Phyllis smiled, weaving between them, and out of the main door.  
“Upstairs,” Delia said, hoping Patsy didn’t read into the statement the wrong way, but ultimately wouldn’t complain if she did.  
”Yes, boss,” Patsy jogged up the stairs, with Delia following in toe. Delia opened the door to the flat, letting Patsy enter first, and once again, following behind. 

”Right, let’s have a look, then.” Patsy took her coat off, and Delia threw it on the sofa. Patsy held her hand out, and Delia nodded compliantly, placing the fingers in the palm of the others hand. Patsy gently rang her fingertips over the skin, with it’s few littered bruises. She knew Delia had been over-exaggerating, yet here she saw, gently touching the others skin, as if she was scared to break something, scared to touch too hard. Patsy gingerly unstrapped them, letting the injured digits rest on her own. “Right. Get some ice on them,” Patsy commanded, her eyes raising for a moment, only to meet with Delia’s own cerulean irises. Breathing felt quite heavy, for the both of them, each breath felt weighed down, and struggled to leave the confines of their throats. “Ice,” Patsy commanded once more, grateful for the fact her voice wasn’t hoarse.  
”Yes, boss,” Delia mocked Patsy from earlier, earning a stern glare, which was hopelessly foiled by the corner of Patsy’s mouth, which was turned upwards. 

”Does that feel better?” Patsy asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, with her arms folded. “Do you know, though? They wouldn’t be so bad if you’d just rest them! Shocking, isn’t it?” Sarcasm poured from Patsy’s lips, flowing as easily as a river. Delia scoffed, her eyebrows raised.  
”Well, it was boring, okay? Can’t climb things, can’t really do anything fun,” Delia huffed, holding the bag of peas to the skin, which she could no longer feel.  
”I have to ask, though,” Patsy’s nervousness had been put at ease only moments before, but she could now feel it rising back up, halting at the lump in her throat. “Was tonight - was it gonna be a date?” She stammered out the words, wordlessly scorning herself. Her confidence was often unwavering - she never faltered in job interviews, in tough situations, and before this, she’d never faltered around girls. But, her self-assurance wavered in front of a smaller Welsh girl, who she’d known for 4 days. It had to be then, that her confidence crumbled.  
”Well. Yeah. There still can be one, if you’d like?” Delia’s own courage was depleting, as she spoke.  
”I- I mean, yeah, sure,” her articulate accent sounded even cuter when she was tripping over words, Delia silently thought to herself.  
”Well. What a great, romantic to our first date,” Delia’s lips formed her usual, dazzling smile, and if it weren’t for the fact the palms of her hands were planted against the counter, Patsy Mount would’ve joined the rug on the floor.


	6. With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of Patsy & Delia's date.

Being in a room with Delia Busby just felt… natural. Nothing felt unusual - the comfortable smiles, the small bouts of silence, the eye contact. It didn’t feel forced, or unwelcoming, it felt as if Patsy was where she belonged, where she should be, with the person who made her feel so placid, yet delirious. “So, what would you like to do?” The Welsh accent broke the silence, “We could go for a walk, watch a movie, go out for dinner - it’s up to you,” the brunette continued, her eyes azure eyes locked onto Patsy’s.   
”I don’t know, really. I quite like just being indoors,” part of her wanted to add “with you”, but another, more anxious part restrained her. Delia’s features were illuminated with a smile, a sweet tingle finding it’s way in to her chest. 

”I quite like being indoors as well, with you.” Once again, Delia Busby had the courage to say what Patience Mount was thinking - it seemed Delia was formed only of courage, and charming grins, and eyes that made the ginger nurse’s legs weak. At the sweet words, red flush over her cheeks, tainting the pale skin with visible embarrassment. “You were a lot less shy at the hospital,” Delia smirked, her toned arms folded challengingly across her chest.   
”You were a lot less blunt!” Patsy retorted, shifting her arms to mimic Delia’s stance.   
”Now that’s just childish, nurse,” Delia pointed her index finger at Patsy, who did the same. “That’s really childish, honestly. I expected better from a fully trained nurse,” Delia’s words bought a small chuckle from Patsy’s lips, and my god, did Delia want to hear that for the rest of her life. The lightness of the laugh - the way she looked down to the floor as she released the angelic sound, her smile bringing out the dimples in her cheeks. Delia felt like a kid in a candy shop. 

”Seriously, though. What do you want to do? I can show you some of my cool parkour tricks, if ya like,” the shorter woman suggested, waggling her eyebrows. Patsy cocked her head to the left, an expression lacking amusement directed at the other girl. “Oh yeah, broken fingers. Wanna just go for a walk?” Outside the window, the sun was beginning to dip behind the trees and buildings, despite it being only 4 p.m. It left trails of pastel pink and lavender in it’s wake, as it fell to let the moon take over from it’s watchful duties.   
”Why not,” she agreed, a glimmer of a smile surfacing on her lips for a second, before she turned to grab her coat. Delia hadn’t even moved to take her jacket off. Her eyes couldn’t help but fall on Patsy’s frame, admiring the attractive figure from behind - the wide hips, and the way her jeans clung perfectly to her legs. Delia let out a small ‘ffft’ noise, her breath catching in her chest, and her sound catching Patsy's attention. “Hm?” Patsy turned, to see the Welsh woman, with eyes locked like magnets on Patsy. “Were you staring at my ass?” The nurses words caused the girl in question to furiously shake her head, and raise her hands, but the mischievous way her eyes glimmered broke the lie into tiny pieces. Delia blinked a few times.   
”I’m sorry, it was a weird thing to do--” Delia was cut off when Patsy made a small ‘sh’, noise.   
”It’s quite flattering, actually, you don’t have to apologise,” the redheads’ pink lips formed a demure half-smile. Delia was wholly convinced no girl had _ever_ had this effect on her. Never made Delia Busby, adrenaline junkie, feel so utterly helpless with little more than a smile. 

”After you,” Delia held the door open, as Patsy sidestepped out. Delia followed suit, shutting and locking the door behind her. Patsy’s mind was clouded with questions she wanted so badly to ask, but didn’t want to seem over-zealous, or creepy. She tucked her hands in the pockets of her jacket, the brisk air threatening to turn her fingertips numb with every second they were exposed. “So, how’s the compassion thing working out? Did you find any?” Delia inquired, her bright eyes raising to meet the others.   
”It was a long, arduous journey, but I think I just about managed it,” she replied, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes, which were red from her distinct lack of sleep. “Did you find your sense of danger, at all? Or is that too much to ask?”   
”Okay, well, a) I’m offended, and b), I didn’t. I like it better that way,” Delia leaped over a puddle, neatly landing a distance from it. Her eyes didn’t break from Patsy for even a slither of a second, she was too scared to look away, fearing that if she looked away the girl would simply disappear. “Besides, my missing sense of danger meant we got to meet, don’t hate it too much.”   
“Well, yeah, but it also landed you two broken fingers,” Patsy cast an accosting eye on her counterpart. “Your index and middle finger, as well, that hand is basically useless.” Delia scoffed at her sentence.  
”I’ve got another,” she jerked her shoulders, and Patsy swore she saw the other toss her a flirtatious wink. 

They walked down the pathways, talking about whatever came into their minds. Nothing felt forced; nothing felt as if it was fake, or didn’t belong. Every word and joke was met with a laugh, a smile, and eye contact that seemed to warm them enough to fend off the cold. Patsy hated clichés, it was a well known fact, but being around Delia made her feel as if she was at home. Where nothing could harm her, where everything was soft and sweet. 

Delia wasn’t just chasing an adrenaline rush any more; she was chasing Patsy Mount, tall ginger with a knack for quick retorts, and endearing half smiles that made every wonder nature possessed seem like little more than a child’s drawing. She wasn’t after the rush. Patsy still provided it, of course, unknowingly, but now she wanted nothing more than to spend her hours staring into those eyes, and tracing her fingertips over the soft skin that had ghosted over hers earlier. 

Patsy hadn’t been counting the minutes they’d been walking, but all traces of the sun had left the sky, which was now held by the moon. “I’ve gotta ask, the first few days after we met… did you think about me?” Despite the question already being aired, Patsy wasn’t entirely convinced she wanted to hear the answer.   
”I wouldn’t be here, if I hadn’t thought about you. In all honesty, you were all I thought about,” Delia confessed, pushing the metal gate to the park open, the chipped yellow paint coming off onto her hand, which she wiped carelessly on her jeans. “It was so weird, because I’d only met you once, and I just.. I don’t know, I couldn’t get you out of my head,” Delia broke their eye contact for the first time that night, as her eyes focused on the dewy grass, the moonlight casting an ominous glow onto it.   
”I feel the same. Trixie - a friend of mine - actually told me to just get your number off the form,” Patsy halted as they reached a bench, she sat down, ignoring the wet wood as she grabbed Delia by the wrist, tugging her down to be next to her. 

”I’m glad your friend gave me your number, though,” Patsy continued, earnest weighing her voice down to little more than a whisper.   
”I’m glad she did, too,” Delia’s lips formed a lopsided beam, lit up peacefully by the street lamps. Patsy was bought back to her daydream - Delia Busby smiling languidly, cheeks and eyes gloriously illuminated by the soothing glow. She wanted little more than to kiss those languid lips, to feel a hand in her hair. It was visible, as well. Patsy’s lips parted slightly, her eyes set on the woman across from her, gaze held by such formidable awe. “Something up?” Delia asked, knowing exactly what the other way thinking, as the same thought entranced her own mind. Disappointment settled on her shoulders when the other shook her head. 

Delia wanted Patsy to initiate something; sure, she liked being in control, but it would be nice to know Patsy wanted Delia as much as she wanted her. When she didn’t, a sleek sadness snaked its way into Delia’s veins. Delia absolutely loathed feeling miserable, she instantly jumped up. “Watch this,” Delia removed her jacket, revealing muscular arms. Patsy furrowed her eyebrows, her gaze intent and unmoving from Delia’s biceps.   
”Don’t climb anything!” Patsy called after the other, who was walking purposefully towards the monkey bars. Patsy stood, grabbing the others jacket, and following after her. Delia huffed, ignoring the shooting pain in her fingers as she scaled the metal bars.   
”Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I’m fine,” Delia spoke through gritted teeth, which she hoped the other would assume were due to concentration “I’m not gonna do anything fancy, anyway.” Delia pushed herself up between two of the bars, so she was in a seated position. “See?” Patsy had to admit, watching the other lift herself with such effortlessness was… attractive, to say the least. The way her arms flexed each time, and her shirt rode up to reveal a glimmer or toned abs. “You should join me.” 

Patsy shook her head, standing her ground. Delia pouted, from atop the children’s apparatus. Patsy looked left and right, scanning for people. When her eyes were met with nothing but emptiness, she clumsily scaled the other side. “How do I-” Patsy grunted, hauling herself upwards, to be in the same position as Delia, only not quite as smoothly.   
”See? Not so bad up here, you’re like, the same height as the bars, as well.”   
”Are your fingers okay?” Patsy asked thoughtfully, taking the others hand in her own, feebly trying to survey them in the dim lighting. Patsy looked up, to see an amused smile being shot in her direction. “What?” She questioned, leaving Delia’s hand in her lap.   
”Nothing, nothing. You’re just nice to look at,” Delia’s head was tilted to the left a fraction, the corners of her mouth upturned in a sweet smile. Patsy smile was directed at Delia this time, instead of the ground below her. It was reciprocated, the environment held in mutual silence. 

Patsy climbed down, gesturing for Delia to join her, back on the ground. Delia’s expression looked as if she was momentarily contemplating it. A few seconds passed, followed by a muffled squeal of “Fucking hell--” and Delia Busby was now hanging from the monkey bars by her legs. Patsy approached, jaw clenched as she looked to the other. “Warning would’ve been nice,” She commented, her stern eyes level with Delia’s.   
”I’ll bear that in mind,” Patsy could feel Delia’s breath on her skin, the white puffs spinning in the wintry air, before disappearing, leaving a patch of heat on Patsy’s skin.   
”I have a question,” the words held trepidation as they escaped the taller woman’s mouth.   
”Fire away,” Delia could feel the blood slowly rush to her head “but don’t ask if you can kiss me,” Patsy’s eyes developed a sad glimmer for a second, “because the answer is yes, and you know it is.”   
That was all the encouragement Patsy needed to lean forward, and press her lips to Delia’s, softly at first. Delia’s lips formed a proud smirk against Patsy’s lips and her hand reached round to touch the chilled skin of Patsy’s cheek. Delia broke the kiss, using her uninjured index finger to motion ‘1 second’. She easily lifted herself back up, and down the monkey bars, ignoring the throb in her fingers. 

”I’ve never had a Spiderman kiss,” Delia grinned, her hands tucked in her pockets, to prevent further inspections of her injuries. Patsy’s face was stained red, her lips parted. As Delia approached, Patsy reached out, her hand wrapping around Delia’s neck as she pulled the girl towards her, leaning down to kiss her again. Delia’s own hand was on Patsy’s left cheek, the pad of her thumb gently brushed over the girls cheekbone. Patsy had never kissed a girl with such delicate feeling lips. Every hair on her body stood on edge, she felt like her heart had swelled two sizes. Patsy never wanted to move from this spot; never wanted to leave the tattered tarmac, never wanted her lips to leave Delia’s. She never wanted the night to end. 

Delia had found it; the purest form of adrenaline, and the secret? Patsy Mount’s lips. It seemed they held every sort of rush she’d ever looked for. With Patsy’s lips on hers, she felt as if the entire world was hers for the taking, but all she wanted was Patsy. Nothing could distract her from moving her lips in perfect harmony with the others, her hand moving down to rest just beneath the others jaw. Delia’s trance was shattered when Patsy broke the kiss, mumbling the words “Oh my gosh, we’re in a kids park! Is there some sort of law against this? Delia!” The syllables were little more than whispers through gritted teeth, inducing a laugh from Delia.   
”Calm down, it’s fine,” the girl waved off the others worries, taking her hand and grabbing her jacket from the tarmac. Delia lead the pair from the park, her thumb instinctively tracing over the others’ knuckles. 

Delia let the gate shut behind them, the clang of the metal being the only sound to fill the air. Patsy yawned into her hand, receiving a quirked eyebrow and sly smile. “Am I boring you?” Delia met Patsy’s eyes, seeing how bloodshot they looked. “Bloody hell, Pats, did you sleep at all?” Worry flooded her voice, replacing the sarcasm that taunted Patsy moments ago. Delia’s lips curved into a frown when Patsy shook her head. “Let’s go back to mine - you can sleep over, if you want?” Patsy cast a sceptical, bleared eye on Delia. “Not in that way - I just mean, we can put a movie on, and not wander around in a park,” Delia was unsure of how to word it, but assumed she’d done an okay job, as Patsy nodded. The redhead’s mind was clouded by unforgiving exhaustion, and she let Delia drag her down the pathway. “You should have slept, Pats,” Delia censured, the use of the nickname warming Patsy’s heart. 

Patsy retrieved her phone, texting Trixie to alert her to the fact there was a chance returning home tonight, knowing full well her friend would call every police station in the country to search for Patsy if she didn’t return. Delia turned the lights on. “I’d say you can borrow some of my pyjamas, but I don’t think they’d fit,” Patsy took her coat off, leaning against the wall in the hallway, the concentrated light ushering the throb in her temple back to it’s earlier position. “Follow me,” Delia gently wrapped her hand around Patsy’s wrist, not really allowing the other much choice. The feeling of Delia’s fingertips on the skin of her wrist invoked a shiver, which made it’s way down Patsy’s spine. It wasn’t unpleasant, though. It was rousing. Not rousing enough to prevent the exhaustion from shrouding the girl again, however. 

Patsy flopped down on Delia’s bed, as the other shifted through her wardrobe, filtering through the clothes to find something that could serve as a nightdress. “Don’t bother, I have a plan,” Patsy’s posh accent was lowered by a drowsy hoarseness that had found home in her voice. “Look away, pervert,” Patsy commanded, a smile tugging on her lips. She aptly removed her jeans, shoes, and socks, leaving her just in an oversized flannel shirt, and underwear. “You can turn around.” By the time Delia had swivelled on the balls of her feet, Patsy had folded her jeans, and placed them by the side of the bed.   
”Fucking hell,” Delia commented, trying not to appear predatory as she drank in the celestial sight before her: a slender, redhead stood in _her_ bedroom, in nothing more than an oversized flannel that barely covered the tops of her thighs. “I can sleep on the covers, if you’d like?” Delia offered, and Patsy nodded in agreement, making herself comfortable on Delia’s bed. 

Delia retrieved the TV remote. Truth be told, she never used the TV that sat on her dresser. It never held her focus long enough. She doubted it would now, as there was an extremely attractive girl in her bed. Delia never attempted anything on the first date, and despite them kissing, nothing was different. Patsy’s eyelids were drooping shut, and Delia hadn’t even selected a film or program yet, the slow wave of tiredness slowly draping over her, the same way the blankets did. 

The elder woman shifted, so her head was resting on Delia’s chest, strands of her silky red hair falling down to cover her face. She’d not felt this calm whilst falling asleep since Trixie had comforted her. The tips of Delia’s fingertips drew tiny, intricate patterns on the back of her hand, as light as a feather drifting through wind. Delia’s other arm was wrapped around the her shoulders. Patsy felt so at ease, so careless in the grasp of Delia Busby - the room smelled of watercolour paints, and Delia’s cotton bedsheets were lightly scented with her fruity perfume. There was a comfortable silence between them, that was interrupted every so often by Patsy’s yawning, or exhaling sleepily. Delia watched Patsy slowly fall asleep, with the sound of some ridiculous reality TV show filling the rest of silence. She watched Patsy’s features relax. She watched Patsy’s chest rise and fall. Delia’s own eyes slowly drooped shut, gingerly sliding herself down the bed. 

Delia herself was perfectly content; red hair tickled her chest, but not in an uncomfortable way. A girl who seemed to be made of dreams slept beside her, her eyes shut and facial expression serene. Delia wasn’t focusing on the TV, more just keeping a watchful eye on the girl next to her. The fact they’d met 5 days ago, and Patsy was now in her bed astounded her in more ways than she could ever explain. Delia wanted to reach out a hand, to gingerly shift those locks from her face. She imagined Patsy’s hair felt as soft as clouds, she imagined it’d be so sleek it’d just fall from her fingertips. A wide, cheesy grin parted Delia’s lips, unyielding and unceasing as she jaw began to ache. The smile wouldn’t give way, however. It stood it’s ground, and Delia had to raise a hand to cover her mouth, in case she squealed. Instead of that, she leaned forward, laying a kiss on the nurses forehead. 

It was 2 a.m. when the front door was opened quietly. Valerie snuck in, hurriedly bringing her curly haired companion in. “Okay, sh.. I think my flatmate might have someone over,” Val locked the door, placing her keys on the sideboard. Delia had anxiously woken up the moment the front door opened. She didn’t want to move, however. Patsy looked so peaceful; her arm idly resting over Delia’s stomach, her breathing placid. “This way,” she heard the whispers, silently wondering if Valerie knew just how loud she actually was. Delia’s hand rested on Patsy’s back, rubbing small circles. The motion was natural; the Welsh girl didn’t even notice she was doing it. An obnoxiously loud clattering could be heard throughout the flat, and Delia winced, checking on Patsy again. Valerie would be getting a stern telling off tomorrow, definitely. Delia clenched her jaw, her arm protectively wrapped around the sleeping girl. Thankfully, Valerie’s door shut moments later, and the last noises heard throughout the house were the words “Sh, Jenny!” spoken in a harsh tone, followed by a poor attempt at a stifled laugh.


	7. Keep It Quiet & Take It Slowly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Trixie centric chapter, because it was time.

“Right, well, just speed it up!” Trixie demanded down the phone, watching her bedroom door, to ensure it didn’t open. She heard an apology through the speaker. “Whatever - just, speed up!” She hung up the phone as the bedroom door opened. Cynthia exited, her eyes squinting as they reacted to the change in lighting. 

”Morning,” Cynthia padded into the kitchen, her bare feet slapping on the vinyl flooring. 

”Sleep well?” Trixie asked, tenderly. Cynthia nodded, standing on her tiptoes to extract a mug from   
the cupboard.

”Anything planned for the day?” The brunette asked, placing a tea bag in her mug, and proceeding to fiddle with the hemmed sleeve of her soft, lilac coloured pyjamas. 

”Not really, was thinking we could just stay indoors,” Trixie suggested, propped up against the counter. Cynthia looked up to the other, a gentle smile on her lips, as she nodded acceptingly. An afternoon in would be nice, just her and Trixie. 

Having gone to university together, the pair were attached at the hip. Trixie was one of the most stable things Cynthia had in her life, and she was so grateful for the blonde. At first glance, Trixie Franklin might seem beautiful, untouchable, even shallow. Of course, she’s beautiful, it was undeniable. But, there was so much more to Trixie Franklin than the eye would ever reveal. She was compassionate, strong, funny, talented and all whilst looking like a model. Cynthia admired her for all of that. She often thought of how much Trixie handled, and how she’d crumbled so easily. Of course, Trixie was there to tell her not to be daft, that she had the strength to get through it all, too. Everyone deserved a best friend like Beatrice Franklin. 

The blonde thought the world of Cynthia, as well. She adored her with every fibre of her being; adored her strength, her willpower, her kindness, her quietness. Everything. She was so happy to have her best friend back. Sure, Patsy was also Trixie’s best friend, but Cynthia had always been there - Cynthia had seen Trixie with tears pouring down her cheeks, Cynthia had pried empty bottles from Trixie’s hand, and kissed her forehead. Nothing would change the fact Cynthia and Trixie seemed to be joined by some sort of invisible thread, that neither mentioned, but both knew was there. Sometimes the connections that were left unmentioned were the strongest. 

30 minutes ticked by, with Cynthia reclining on the sofa, and Trixie dressing herself for the day. Trixie stared into her reflection, as she tried to even out her eyeliner. The ringing of the doorbell caused her to jump, her hand jolting, making a streak of black liquid run from her eye to her hairline. “I’ll get it!” Cynthia called. Even her shouting was still quiet. Some people were just quiet, it was just the nature of them. Cynthia was one of those people, she was reserved, and gentle by form. Cynthia rose from her comfortable position, striding towards the front door. She opened it, mumbling a ‘hello’, her eyes being met by a familiar face. 

”Jenny!” Happiness flooded over her, like waves crashing over rocks. Her lips curved upwards into a smile as her taller friend encased her in a warm hug, both rocking back and forth on their heels.

”You better not be hugging without me!” Trixie called, darting out of the her bedroom, into the public corridor. She wrapped her arms around both of them. She felt so nostalgic; it felt like being in university again, the group hugs they’d share when one was sad, or just for the sake of it. Trixie smiled into the wool of Jenny’s jumper, which smelled of an unfamiliar scent. Trixie swore if she opened her eyes for even a second, tears would spill. 

Cynthia held both of her friends dearly, fitting snugly between the two. She grinned so broadly that tears began to form in her eyes. “Oh gosh, I’m gonna cry,” Cynthia’s statement was mumbled into Jenny’s chest, and she could feel the chuckle rise in Jenny, and just smiled even wider when it was released. All 3 of them were bleary eyed at this point, tears clouding their vision as they stood in a position they’d been in many times before. 

”Surprise!” Jenny’s voice broke as she spoke, pulling back from the hug, her arms still outstretched. Cynthia stepped back, dragging the cotton sleeve of her pyjamas under her eyes, swiping any stray tears. “Can we go inside? It’s bloody cold,” Jenny rubbed her arms with her hands, and Trixie stood aside, letting everyone back inside.

”So! What’s new? What have I missed?” Jenny sat down, in the same arm chair Cynthia had chosen before. 

”Well, I’ve only been here for 2 days, I’m not really sure,” Cynthia pulled her knees to her chest, grinning in Jenny’s direction. Jenny returned it eagerly, her eyes welling again - just seeing her two friends so happy, and being back together with them. It was just… heartwarming. Being back with the two people who understand her most. Cynthia’s own eyes were beginning to fill with tears once more. She hadn’t felt so happy in such a long time - she hadn’t felt the warmth in her chest, the ache from smiling. Trixie placed the tray with 3 mugs of tea on the coffee table neatly, sitting down next to Cynthia. 

”Well. Patsy’s got herself a Welsh daredevil. I’m absolutely infatuated with this utterly oblivious girl from Liverpool. And Cynthia’s still our little aromantic, asexual angel,” Trixie grinned, scrunching up her nose. Cynthia smiled, her cheeks flushing pink as she raised the steaming mug to her lips. “And, you?” Trixie waggled her eyebrows suggestively with the question, earning a giggle from her friend. 

”I spent the night with a bartender - it’s not as bad as it sounds! I know her, and we didn’t do anything bad, or naughty, I was mildly drunk and didn’t want to come back here. Her name’s Valerie, she’s very sweet and said I could stay with her,” Trixie cast a shocked look in Jenny’s direction, “No! No. She didn’t do anything, Trix! I slept on her bed, she slept on the floor. Plus, I know her!” Jenny argued.

”Really, how do you know her?” Trixie pressed further, holding the geometrically patterned mug in her hands, enjoying the warmth that was passed onto her palms. 

”Her flatmate teaches me how to drive! Well.. tries to. I’d rather just bike, better for the environment, but also kind of slow,” Jenny said, with an added shrug. Trixie recognised the name, Valerie, but couldn’t pinpoint where exactly she’d heard it before - she knew a lot of people on first name basis, but that name rang out in her head so prominently, as if it were more recent. 

They spent a few hours, just talking. It was as if they were back in school, sitting around, discarding and sharing their worries and thoughts with the people who understood them best. Trixie ranted about Barbara for a good 15 minutes, alternating between proclaiming how utterly infuriating the girls naivety was, and pining over how utterly captivating she was. Jenny just grinned, and said “You’ve got it bad, kid,” to which she was met with a joyless glare. Trixie huffed exasperatedly, leaning back against the cushion of the sofa, which she sort of wanted to toss in the direction of her curly haired counterpart. 

“I know I’ve got it bad! I don’t want it bad,” the words were little more than whispers of frustration eliciting sharply from her lips. She raked her hands through her hair, a heaviness in her chest. 

”Trixie, you’ve never been the type that sits around and mopes when she likes someone, you’ve always gone out and seized the day… or girl, or boy - gender is besides the point,” Cynthia waved her hands as she spoke “My point is, invite her round. Tell her you like her… Forlorn doesn’t suit you,” the quieter woman advised. That was Cynthia’s thing; she was a listener by nature, but her experience with listening left her with an abundance of wise words that came in handy sometimes. Trixie’s glanced shifted from her mug, to the brunette, who’s lips curved into a reassuring smile. 

As per usual, Cynthia was right. Trixie nodded, and stood up. “I’m going to make myself presentable, and then invite her round. Don’t be weird,” she gestured to her friends, with her index finger. Jenny raised her hands.

”I’m never weird,” she objectified, earning a raised eyebrow from Trixie. “We should get Patsy back, as well,” Jenny tried to change the subject hastily, and Cynthia agreed, her head bobbing enthusiastically. She was happy to be back amongst friends, back amongst people who knew she liked the quiet, and remembered how she likes her tea, and know how to make her smile. 

Trixie stared at her reflection in the wall mounted mirror. She knew she was attractive, anyone would be daft if they disputed that. The only thought that captured and relentlessly taunted her mind was if Barbara thought she was attractive. There’s aesthetic beauty, which Trixie possessed. But there’s also general beauty. Trixie often worried Barbara thought she lacked that.Trixie Franklin was a fair skinned, soft haired princess with eyes as soft and kind as clouds, but tinged blue. To deny her beauty would effectively be to deny the existence of oxygen, or the stars. With ease, she retrieved her phone and invited Barbara round, hoping the words seemed as light and friendly as possible, hoping Babs couldn’t tell there was an agenda behind the courteous invite. 

“Well?” Jenny pried when Trixie exited, leaning nonchalantly against the back of the sofa.

”Well what?” Trixie retorted sternly, mirroring Jenny’s posture, accenting the childish mockery by folding her arms across her chest. 

”Well! Is she coming over?” The taller woman prompted, eyebrows raised. 

”I don’t know, let me know when she’s replied and I’ll tell you,” Trixie’s lips curved upwards into a smirk, which received little more than a huff from her exasperated companion. She sincerely hoped Barbara did agree to come over. There’d be a weird sense of pride, introducing someone so sweet, endearing and charming - okay, sometimes clumsy - to her friends. Ultimately it was someone that made her happy. Trixie didn’t need the title ‘girlfriend’, sure, she’d like it, but ultimately she just wanted Barbara Gilbert. By her side. If there was such a thing as personified rays of sunshine, Barbara was certainly that. Her smile seemed to steal all the beauty from nature, and hoard it. Potentially the sweetest crime every committed. It astounded Trixie quite often. At 3 in the morning, after texting each other all night, she’d remember that someone so utterly _perfect_ existed, and it’d bring a smile to her lips that wouldn’t cease it’s rampage until the blonde buried her head in her pillow.

Smitten is a word that comes to mind whenever Trixie thinks about her feelings towards Barbara. Smitten. Absolutely so. Ridiculously so. Trixie didn’t like to use the word ‘love’, however. Not until she knew it was reciprocated, because otherwise the use of the word in correlation to the person haunted her whenever she shut her eyes to fall asleep, or whenever she was alone with a sad song and her own thoughts. So the word love was little more than a piece of fluff drifting through the air in the back of her mind, being blown away at every possible chance. Trixie picked the scattered mugs up, pouring out the contents and placing the empty receptacles into the sink. Patsy would inevitably get antsy at the mess, so Trixie silently vowed to scrub the mugs before the return of her ginger flatmate. 

Trixie’s phone had already buzzed with a positive response from Barbara, who’d be over in 20 minutes. She informed the others, forcing them to promise they wouldn’t do anything absurd or strange. Jenny and Cynthia caught up on the sofa, exchanging reassuring and friendly words in the air between them, whilst Trixie scrubbed the dirtied mugs, placing them on the draining board as soon as she finished. She longed to hear a knock on the door, the rap of knuckles against wood beckoning Trixie. Yet, when the noise did echo throughout the building, Trixie jumped on the spot, shrilly exclaiming “I’ll get it!” 

“Hello,” Barbara stood in the doorframe, dressed in jeans and a yellow t-shirt, beaming directly at Trixie with such force that the blonde’s cheeks tinged pastel pink.

“Hi! Come in, Patsy’s not back yet but she should be soon,” Trixie stepped aside, allowing the girl into the flat, before shutting the door behind her, secluding them from the outside world. 

”I’m sure we can survive without Patsy,” as the words found Trixie’s ears, she could’ve sworn they sounded slightly flirtatious. Barbara turned on her heels, her eyes falling upon Jenny and Cynthia, disappointment glimmering within the pools of blue for a moment, until she realised she must look incredibly rude. “Hello!” She greeted brightly, placing her bag down on the hardwood floors.

”Hi, I’m Jenny, an old friend of Trixie’s,” the brunette replied sweetly, extending a neatly manicured hand for Barbara to shake. 

”Cynthia, also an old friend,” the smaller woman’s voice was a lot quieter, her eyes making contact with Barbara’s own for a mere second, but it was enough to see the kindness she held. 

”Right! So! Patsy should be back soon, and then the festivities can begin,” Trixie took Barbara’s coat, a smile parting her lips. Barbara watched Trixie as she did so, such a vivid fascination lingering prominently in her expression - the way the corners of her lips turned up only a fraction of an inch, the signs of a smile threatening to break - and the way her eyelids drooped slightly, as if the eloquent movements of Beatrix Franklin would cause them shut at any given moment. 

”Festivities?” Jenny questioned. 

”Nothing fancy! Just a girls day, we can sit and talk about our infatuations,” Trixie wanted to flash a glance to Barbara, but didn’t dare, just in case the other was being vigilant. “Just. Catch up. And of course, introduce a new girl to our ranks,” Trixie wrapped her arm around Barbara’s shoulders, grinning from ear-to-ear, eyes shimmering in the natural light. Barbara’s smile was directed at the ground, followed by a small laugh. 

A good half an hour passed before Patience Mount made her sweeping entrance, hair dishevelled and yesterday’s clothes clinging to her body. “Well, well, well,” Trixie crooned when Patsy walked in, a blush adorning her pale skin. 

”Okay, don’t be weird. We didn’t do anything! I ended up falling asleep on her, quite embarrassing, really,” Patsy started her explanation, “but she was lovely about it. Of course, she’s completely daft and very messy but… she’s lovely,” Patsy finished, quickly, excusing herself to get changed. The redhead was apparently too caught up in her explanation to notice Jenny perched on the sofa, alongside her co-worker.

”I can’t tell if that’s bad or good,” Jenny furrowed her eyebrows, taking a strawberry from the bowl and taking a bite of the red fruit. 

”I think it’s good? Apparently this Delia must have magical powers, she didn’t bat an eyelid at you or Babs,” Trixie shrugged her shoulders, sitting back with her legs tucked awkwardly underneath her. 

”Delia?” Jenny enquired further, recognising the name. “I know a Delia,” she added, as if an afterthought. 

”Maybe it’s the same one,” Trixie chimed, covering her mouth as she chewed on a chocolate. 

”Eh, probably not. Although the messy description fits,” Jenny raised her eyebrows to wordlessly punctuate her words, “I’ll ask Patsy about it when she finally notices I’m here.”

”So, Barbara, what do you do?” Cynthia asked, hoping she didn’t sound too forward. 

”Oh, I’m an A&E nurse. I work with Patsy, actually,” Barbara gave Cynthia a shining grin. It felt sort of as if she was being interviewed. 

”Oh! So how did you meet Trixie? I don’t mean to pry, you don’t have to answer.”

”Well, I asked Patsy out for drinks one night, and Trixie came along, and we sort of just hit it off - started texting the same day, and now she’s one of my closest friends,” the nurse explained, apologising for not being a very apt story teller shortly after. Cynthia shook off the apology, and smiled her approval to Trixie. 

Cynthia knew Trixie didn’t need her approval, but she could see how much Barbara cared for the other, just by the way she looked at her. She could see the same care laden in Trixie’s own behaviour, and her words from earlier that morning. It was evident they both thought the world of each other - potentially too much to go forward with anything romantic. Cynthia didn’t hate the fact she didn’t experience romantic or sexual attraction. She much preferred watching two people fall in love. It was so much sweeter to see. Besides, Cynthia had never shared the same interest in infatuation that the others shared. She adored watching her friends love and be loved in return, it just made her heart happy, when all it had recently known was sadness. 

Patsy eventually re-emerged, apologising for not greeting Barbara and Jenny, topping the sorry words off with hugs. She perched in the arm of the chair that held Cynthia, listening to Jenny talk about what she’d been off doing, and her life in general. 

”Patsy, this Delia you spent the night with… she was Welsh?” Jenny eventually piped up, directing the question at the ginger nurse. 

”Yep, why’d you ask?” A puzzled Patsy replied, her arms folded across her chest. Jenny let out a spluttering laugh. 

”I think we spent the night in the same flat,” she grinned, placing her glass down on the table. Patsy wasn’t sure whether she should laugh, or be angry. Instead, she just asked:

”How do you know Delia?” There was a degree of worry in her voice; Delia’s ways had given her some incline that maybe the Welsh thrill-seeker wasn’t exactly a giant fan of commitment. 

”She’s my driving instructor,” Jenny started, seeing the worry etched on Patsy’s face caused her to blurt out “No! No, nothing like that! Gosh, no. She’s lovely but not for me, if that makes sense? No. I… know her flatmate, I spent the night with Val.”

”Oh! That’s where I know the name from,” Trixie nodded slowly. “Well, that’s the weirdest coincidence - how did you two not see each other this morning?” Both of the girls looked to each other, words stammering to leave their lips. 

”I didn’t wake up until late,” Patsy explained, scratching her arm, and looking to Jenny.

”Oh- yeah, I was up early,” she cleared her throat after, a blush creeping languidly onto her cheeks. “Don’t look at me like that!” She extended a hand to playfully thwack Trixie, who’s smirk was ever growing. 

”Delia did mention hearing Val come in at about… 2 a.m.? 3 a.m.? I can’t remember,” the right corner of Patsy’s lips curved up to form the smirk she’d artfully mastered, Jenny’s flush extending as she covered her face. 

”It’s not as bad as it sounds! Absolutely nothing happening, Valerie was lovely and chivalrous,” Jenny sipped her orange juice, crossing her legs to sit in a position that did not look even remotely comfortable. “There’s nothing going on, we’re just friends.” She stated. 

Trixie and Barbara shared a knowing, lazy grin. You could see affection shared between them, you could reach out and graze your fingertips over it, but apparently neither of them did. Trixie wanted too, but she feared as soon as her skin came in contact with it, the other would flee and leave Trixie devastated. Barbara feared the same, of course. When they eventually pulled their eyes away from each other, the others stopped their staring and returned to general chatter, catching up and sharing inside jokes. 

Trixie held Jenny’s hand in her own, painting the pastel orange nail varnish onto her nails.   
”You know, everyone can see you and Barbara like each other,” Jenny commented, voice little more than a whisper.

“That’s not the point, Jenny. I can’t see it,” Trixie replied, wrapping the tip of the nail in the polish. 

”But it’s there, and you know it is. Stop denying it,” Jenny had been mentally planning the pep talk from the moment she saw the reluctance between the pair “Trixie, you’ve never been the shy one. You’ve been the one that waltzed around, owning every room she walked into. C’mon, what’s so different about Barbara?” The words were exchanged in hushed tones, whilst the others laughed and nattered. 

”I don’t know what’s so different about her - everything, I suppose?” Trixie put the brush back into the bottle, “I don’t even know if she likes girls. I don’t want to be an experiment - okay, that sounds bad. But, I don’t know how to raise the subject. Plus, she works with Patsy. It’s going to be awkward if something goes wrong.”

”It’s gonna be even more awkward if you two just keep being friends with all this pent up… shit. It’s just gonna be awkward and weird if one day you stop liking each other and stop being friends. Just bloody go for it, Trixie, she likes you, and you like her.” Jenny grinned, taking Trixie’s hand in her own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Trixie offered the girl a small smile, before scorning her about smudging her nail polish. 

”Who’s next for Trixie’s salon?” the bubbly blonde called, gesturing to the array of nail varnishes ahead of her. Barbara looked around, before raising her hand, bringing a dimpled grin to crusade across Trixie’s red lips. 

”Can I have that green, please?” Barbara held up the glass bottle. 

”Barbara, you really don’t know what colour co-ordination is, do you?” Trixie joked lightly, unscrewing the lid and taking Barbara’s hand. 

”Um. I think I’m doing an okay job!” Barbara defended herself, and her poor wardrobe choices. 

”Mhm, course you are,” Trixie scrunched up her nose, being rewarded by a quiet laugh from the other. 

”Well, we can’t all look absolutely perfect all the time,” Barbara quipped, “That sounded mean- I’m really sorry,” she frowned, using her hand to push back some brunette strands nervously. 

”That sounded the complete opposite of mean, Gilbert,” Trixie’s cheeks hurt from smiling at this point, but another crept onto her lips, crinkling the corners of her eyes. 

”Good, I couldn’t live with myself if you hated me,” she added, exhaling softly. Trixie’s glance shifted, to meet Barbara’s. 

”It’s a good job I don’t hate you, then.. quite the opposite, actually,” the words were met with a soft smile, and Trixie wanted to divulge just how much she _liked_ Barbara, but words got stuck in her throat, like the nail varnish that clumped and dried on the cap. “Now, don’t hate me, but I think we should go with a different colour… maybe this yellow? It matches your shirt,” Trixie suggested, placing the dark green back onto the coffee table.

”I could never hate you,” Barbara paused, a smile cracking as she quoted Trixie’s earlier words: “Quite the opposite, actually.” Trixie shook her head, a dazzling smile illuminating her skin. “But yes, boss. Go with the yellow.” 

Trixie artfully painted the girls nailed, silently reprimanding her for the state of her cuticles. She began to plot her speech, plot how she was going to word her feelings, how she was going to try and keep a straight face whilst doing it, and let Barbara know if she didn’t feel the same it was okay, and there'd be no hard feelings. But, Trixie never was much good at putting emotions into words; either the word didn’t convey it enough, or made it seem too strong. She was better at actions, but Barbara had once told her she needed words, as well, during a 8 a.m. texting session before trudging off to work. Words could be such fickle things, you say them in the wrong tone of voice and the message could be completely misunderstood. 

The sun was beginning to drowsily drop beneath the buildings and the lines of trees when Trixie was finally completely alone with Barbara. Cynthia was showering, and Patsy and Jenny had gone to get takeaway and alcohol. “So, what do you think of Jenny and Cynthia?” Trixie asked, pulling the fluffy blanket over her legs. 

”Oh, I think they’re lovely. Jenny’s very nice, you two get along well,” the words were mildly apprehensive upon delivery. 

”Are you jealous, Gilbert?” Trixie raised her shoulders, grinning. “No, we’ve been friends for… for ages, really. Since I can remember. She’s more of a sister than a girlfriend.”

”But no, they’re lovely. Cynthia’s so sweet and kind,” Barbara pulled some of the blanket from Trixie, who shot her a challenging glare. 

”They like you,” Trixie popped a raspberry into her mouth, turning to Barbara.

”Good! Good. I like them,” Barbara wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the conversation, she wasn’t sure if she should stammer out her feelings and worries or change the subject faster than she’d got ready this morning. 

Trixie faltered, before saying “They think we fancy each other,” she accented it with a laugh. Barbara’s eyes widened, and she nervously mirrored Trixie’s laugh. “I told them we don’t, not at all,” Trixie continued, looking for a response from the other. 

”Oh… yeah, no. We don’t,” it took a few moments for Barbara to agree, and Trixie felt instantly awful. 

”Well, I don’t know who you fancy, but--” her sentence was broken when the front door opened, and she huffed, the exhalation releasing frustration. She looked around, seeing Jenny and Patsy rushing to the kitchen. “I- bloody hell. Okay,” she stopped herself, “we’ll continue this.” Trixie gestured to the two bumbling girls in the kitchen, and Barbara nodded understandingly, despite the worry pooling ominously within her chest, swirling in her stomach to create a weird feeling of nausea. 

”What did we miss?” Jenny asked, sitting down once the food had been served. She shifted her glance purposefully between Babs and Trixie, noticing a change in their behaviour. 

”Nothing, really. Cynthia’s in the shower- Patsy, your phone went off, it was Delia,” Trixie informed the other, who nodded and placed her plate down, taking her phone and darting off eagerly to her bedroom. Trixie glanced to Barbara, who’s skin looked paler than usual. 

Cynthia eventually re-joined the group, eating her meal shortly after the others. Patsy returned, saying how Delia just wanted to know if she was available tomorrow. Trixie stood up, clapping her hands. “Right, Barbara, could you help me bring all my nail polish back to my room? When Jenny gets inebriated, she likes to paint.” Trixie stood, grabbing one of the boxes, whilst Barbara sheepishly nodded and took the other. 

She ushered Barbara in, shutting the bedroom door behind them, and placing the box down. “Sorry- about before…” Trixie trailed off, and Barbara stood rigidly by the door. “I was saying that, um, well I don’t know who you fancy, but as it happens, I quite like you,” Trixie was proud her confidence only teetered once, and Barbara looked momentarily taken aback. “It’s okay if you don’t like me back, I’m sure I can move on.”

Barbara started to talk, but all that tumbled from her lips were stuttered beginnings. Trixie told her to breathe, and Barbara eventually managed: “I do. I do like you. A lot. But I don’t know how to do - this,” she gestured between her and Trixie, “I like you a lot. But. If we were to do this, could we keep it quiet, and take it slowly?” She looked to the floor. 

Trixie couldn’t explain what was going on inside of her - an explosive mix of excitement, joy, and love, completely unfiltered laced it’s way through her veins and all she could to convey it was grin. Smile so broadly the horizons were scared. Barbara looked at Trixie’s expression, trying haplessly to read it. She eventually shared the warm smile, and Trixie approached her. “We can take things as slowly as you want, Barbara. And if you want to stop at any point, we can. You’re in charge,” Trixie took Barbara’s hand in her own, rubbing her thumb over the other’s knuckles. 

Truthfully, Trixie wasn’t entirely sure what ‘taking it slow and keeping it quiet’ meant. Was Barbara ashamed? Did she not want this at all? Trixie let go of Barbara’s hand, opening the bedroom door for the other to exit. Barbara had never raised to topic of sexuality, ever. It didn’t matter to Trixie, of course. But she couldn’t help but feeling a nagging worry as Barbara left the room. In typical Trixie Franklin manner, she pushed it to the back of her mind, vowing to just enjoy the moment. Barbara liked her - that was what she’d wanted, right? She’d wanted that, but now she had it, she was burdened with more worry than happiness. 

They returned to the group as if nothing had happened, as if they hadn’t just placed the foundations for a relationship down in Trixie’s bedroom. Jenny and Cynthia knew what had happened, they’d be bad friends if they didn’t recognise the signs. But, if neither Trixie or Barbara mentioned it, they wouldn’t, either. That must mean they wanted to keep it on the down low. The night returned to it’s original plan, of laughter and happiness, shared between friends with years among them, and new stories to tell.


End file.
